The Uneventful Story
by Snowflake Imp
Summary: It's an uneventful story where nothing happens. And when nothing happens, EVERYTHING happens. PostHogwarts. Not book compliant. Warning: Noncon, minor character deaths. Nominated for a Dangerous Liasions Award!
1. My Life Is Shit

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 01

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. If it ever becomes mine, however, I owe everybody present a Coke.

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Diary entry No. 45, Vol. V

My life is shit.

There, I've said it.

I think all that Griffindor pride and fearful optimism has prevented me from saying it all these years. That, and I always tried to think of starving babies in third world countries.

Well, I think it's high time I got a bit selfish for once. And I think a lot of self-pity is due. None of this "Well, I have it quite well if you really thing about it" business.

So I will say it again.

Hermione Granger's life, is shit.

Bollocks, that felt grand.

My life, is shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Complete and utter SHIT.

…..and now, I shall take an overdue holiday.

Why?

Because my life is shit.

Gods, this is addicting.

Ta.

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The office was abuzz. Hermione Granger, Head Alchemist for the Ministry's Department of Research on Poisons and Cures, was actually taking two weeks off. Not for a conference. Not for independent study time. But for a vacation.

"Are you sure she said she's going on holiday? Are you sure she didn't say, to research that new potion we're working on?" Amanda Clese whispered to her co-worker.

"She bloody went up to the Minister she did, and told him she's going on holiday and if he didn't like it, he could shove it up his arse!" he replied, whispering fiercely.

"I….I don't know what I feel about this at the moment," Amanda said faintly, fearing the next bit of news she would hear was that dinosaurs were still roaming the earth.

"All right people, all right!" a gruff Arthur Weaseley announced. "Let's keep our heads about us!"

People shuffled around him, murmuring, "Yes Minister," feebly.

"Now, Dr. Granger is taking a vacation. No big deal, right? Everybody takes vacation and blast if all if she doesn't deserve it the most. For all the years she has dedicated to us, not once had she taken a sick leave or left on holiday. Even during Christmas!"

Arthur began to pace. "I mean, two years ago, she actually brought paperwork to the table. The table! Right when Mrs. Weaseley was carving the Christmas goose! And it was a delicious goose, if I dare say. The most succulent, juiciest – "

"Minister? If you could move it along," his assistant, Alex Grace, nudged him gently.

"Right! We can all survive two weeks without our resident genius, but it'll take determination and teamwork in order for the days to run smoothly. I'll have Alex check up on you for the next few days, just to make sure things are alright. If you need anything, take it up with him. Dismissed!" Arthur finished, turning smartly back into his office.

The researchers looked at each other nervously, and reluctantly returned to their work.

"Close the door, my lad," Arthur whispered urgently, attempting to look unruffled as he flipped through a few papers on his desk. He smiled nervously at the secretary that was walking past.

As soon as the door closed, the papers dropped to the floor and his head was in his hands.

"Oh, we're doomed!" he wailed. Alex stoically removed a well-placed handkerchief from his breast-pocket and handed it to the Minister with practiced ease.

Arthur blew into it unabashedly. "What will we do without her? She's the only one who can keep those eggheads together and now that she's gone, they'll be back to concentrating on their own blarmy experiments and we'll have parrots with octopus tentacles by noon tomorrow!"

"I'm sure everything will be fine, sir," Alex remarked dryly. "Hopefully by the time they remembered what life was like before her, she will have already returned."

"Doomed! Doomed doomed doomed!" Arthur cried, messily wiping his nose with the cloth.

Used to his displays of hysterics, Alex merely stood next to the babbling man, offering gentle, if not bored, comfort.

"Who's doomed, Dad?" Ronald Weaseley inquired, plopping down in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of the desk.

"Wha- Ron! Wha…what are you talking about?" Arthur said nervously, attempting to make his voice sound jovial.

Ron shrugged, polishing an apple on his shirt. "I was walking by and I heard your voice blaring down the hall about being doomed."

Arthur froze.

Alex didn't bat an eye. "It's the acoustics of the building sir; sound tends to travel better when doors are closed."

A voice from outside chimed in, "And we already finished that experiment with the parrot and octopus! Who does the same experiment twice!"

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Diary entry No. 45.5, Vol. V

I might as well let it all out, now that the shit part is getting old. No more holding back my feelings and thoughts – self loathing be damned! This is a diary, and from this day forth, I shall use it properly.

Reasons why my life is shit (in no particular order):

Although one of the brightest witches to come out of Hogwarts, and despite the prestige of being top researcher for the Ministry, I am not respected. People treat me as if my intelligence is a given, and a tool for them to use whenever and however they please. After they get what they want, it's back to treating me horribly. I'm not a bloody jukebox!

Harry and Ron, though I love them dearly and I know they love me, are so madly in love with a.)their careers and b.) the women in their lives, that I have taken the role of the fifth wheel. This isn't a recent development in their behavior.

I am 28, and am a virgin. Not only a virgin in sex, but also a virgin in groping, kissing, hand holding, smoldering eye contact, flirting, and whatever fun, naughty things that involve the opposite sex. Bugger.

Besides Harry, Ron, Ginny, and maybe Lavender, I have no friends. The rest of Weaseley clan are my friends as well, I suppose. I have my minions at work, but they don't really count. I find I'd rather have a few good friends than a lot of superficial ones, but this is ridiculous.

Crookshanks died two months ago and I have still not mourned for him properly. Instead I threw myself into my work. Now there is not only sadness, but guilt.

I haven't bought a new pair of shoes in over 7 years.

That last one didn't really count, but I don't care. I'm tired of these ugly shoes I bought for comfort and because they were only on sale.

Last, but not least, the driving reason as to why I think my life is shit. I shall continue in smaller print: The man whom I've been crazy about for the past two years is not only not interested in me, but rumors have it he now has a girlfriend. I could say it's all my fault for not acting faster on my feelings, but the truth is, I know that even if I tried, that beautiful, beautiful man would probably still reject me.

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There! End of first chapter! I know it's all a bit inane, but as the title explains, it's an uneventful story. At least for now. This is my first fanfic, so please let me know what you all think! Eventually, there will be lots of romance and angst and hijinks for all!

I draw my inspirations from fanfics that are WONDERFUL and hopefully I am not plagiarizing them (like Temporary Insanity, Experience, and many many more that integrate class, romance, angst, and humor all in one!), silly shows like Monty Python and Simpsons (did you get the jukebox and octo-parrot references?), and silly books like Terry Pratchett and such. Oh, life is so full of things to draw inspiration from!

Note: My biggest weakness is, yes, tenses. This isn't 11th grade English class folks. I hope you know what I mean in the story. If not, flexibility should be considered.


	2. OooOOh Shiny

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 02

Disclaimer: I treat Harry Potter like I do Legolas; I pretend it's mine. ALL MINE.

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Diary entry No. 46, Vol. V

Well, here it is! My holiday! My lovely, relaxing, impromptu vacation! It's so lovely! And relaxing! And….and impromptu!

…….yes alright, it's bloody boring without having anything to do. The problem with taking a holiday just at a drop of a hat is that no one else has one. Everybody is working.

Who does that in this day and age?

Harry is playing Brazil in the playoffs, Ron is investigating a possible money leech in the Ministry, Ginny is too busy at the hospital – it IS flu season – and can't spare a moment….

The twins' shop is booming and there is an infinite amount of naughty children (AND adults; I know of two, and their names start with an H and R) that they need to pander to.

As the last resort, I even resigned myself of visiting Lavender and the girls, but even they had no time to see me! Who knew a boutique had so much upkeep. Flu season meant gown season as well, according to their fashion news. And boot season. Lots and lots of cows and snakes died for flu season, apparently. What a noble cause to die for. God save them, really.

So here I am, sitting all alone in a café typing away at this ridiculously Muggle looking device. Normally, I am not so insecure as to be miserable when alone, but I'm at a low point in my life I think, and a little company would be greatly appreciated.

Perhaps I should stop by my parents' place later on today. Heaven knows how little of them I see. Not only does my hectic work distance me from them, but also my entire way of life is foreign to them. Through the years, we're finding less and less things in common, and we're now reduced to sending cards at the appropriate occasions.

Merlin, that line of thinking is making me upset. It's decided then. Time for our next adventure, children:

Hermione goes to Muggle Land, armed with only a toothbrush in case of a surprise dental inspection.

Curse you coffee and your treacherous staining abilities.

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Around three in the afternoon, Hermione used a Portkey to appear in a deserted alleyway in Muggle London, near Piccadilly Square. She also promptly appeared on a fresh mound of dog droppings.

Right upon impact she knew exactly what she had stepped in. The way her foot was squishing around and the stench was unmistakable.

_Bloody brilliant_, she thought sourly. _Would anyone else land in a pile of dog feces? No. They'd have appeared flawlessly without any sort of embarrassing consequences. I curse you fate. I **curse** you_. If it was one thing Hermione was good at, it was cursing and damning things. Now the only things left uncursed were fluffy slippers, water, and shiny jewelry that distracted her.

After a brisk scourging spell, she trudged to her parents' clinic above one of her childhood favorite delis. Hermione reminded herself to grab a sandwich on her way out. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her modest skirt and old coat, she knocked on the door and entered.

"Hullo miss, do you have an appointment?" a cheerful secretary said from over a messy desk.

"Hullo Lucy, it's been awhile," Hermione said with a smile. "Are Mum and Dad in?"

"Oh! Hermione! How lovely to see you! I barely recognized you!" the secretary cried happily.

"It's nice to see you too," she said. "Are my parents busy?"

"Oh my, well, yes, in a sense," the aging woman said with a blush. "They decided to have a second honeymoon and are off in the Caribbean for the next week and half. Didn't they tell you dear?"

A cold feeling washed over Hermione as she numbly smiled and said something about forgetting about their honeymoon, silly her.

Well, it's a good thing her parents' love was still strong, at least. But oh, the timing!

Unhappy and sullen, she moodily purchased a sandwich and a cup of coffee, extra black. And crisps. A large bag. And a bagel. With extra cream cheese. And a candy bar. Okay, two candy bars.

She used to Portkey to go to Diagon Alley, quickly stepping side to side in case of a repeat case of squishing. Thankfully, the Fates decided to give her a break and gave her a clean runway on which to land on.

She sighed, juggling her goodies uncomfortably. Well, what now? Eating? Then what? Drinking? No, drinking alone was depressing. The library? Usually, a good choice, but today just didn't feel like a lock-yourself-up-alone-reading-books-in-a-musty-old-library day. She needed…….human contact.

Sighing again, she began walking down the busy street, settling for being around humans if she couldn't interact with one. Maybe she'd drop by the Ministry later and stalk Ron home. Hermione grinned a little. Yes, that sounded pretty good.

"Oomf!" Hermione would have said more, but there was a more at stake than her pride at the moment.

Must. Save. FOOD.

In a clumsy attempt at saving both coffee cup and bag of gastronomical delights, she ended both spilling the coffee on her old white coat and dropping the bag.

"I'm terribly sorry," a clear, strong voice remarked.

Tearing her eyes away from the hideous stain spreading on her coat, she looked at the owner of the voice and paled.

Alex Grace.

And……companion. Pretty, girl companion. Who was desperately trying not to giggle. Hermione wished to inform her that she failed miserably. She gets an F for tact.

_No! **NOO!** DAMN YOU FATES_! she screamed as she spiraled into a wave of embarrassment.

"Oh no, don't apologize, it was my fault, really," Hermione said weakly, wishing there was a grate for her to ooze into and die. Instead, she chose to dab the coffee with some tissue.

"I'd offer you a handkerchief but I'm afraid the Minister used it yesterday," Alex said ruefully. "You wouldn't happen to have one….?" He turned his head to the blonde and beautiful woman.

She reluctantly replied, "Well, yes I do, actually….." She walked up to Hermione and hesitantly handed over a silk, pink, and flowered Louis Vuitton handkerchief. Hermione blanched.

"That's really alright, no need to wreck both a coat and a lovely handkerchief," Hermione said quickly, doing some quick mental calculations. If she was right, and she usually was, that scrape of cloth was worth more than her entire outfit combined!

"It's so old anyways, I was looking for any excuse to get rid of it," Hermione continued to blabber. _Why me? **WHY ME**_

Alex looked doubtful.

Hermione flushed. "No, really, there's no need to worry."

His lips quirked up slightly. "Fine, if you say so."

And then there was silence. The worst sort of silence. Awkward silence.

Hermione coughed and eyed her surroundings nervously. In an attempt to keep busy, she picked up her bag of food and twiddled with the plastic handles. Alex and companion appeared uncomfortable.

"Er…so, how are things at the lab?" It was her last stab at conversation and she prayed it would work. Alex Grace was a man of few words, so hopefully talk about the office would at least make him say _something_.

"Well, things aren't running as smoothly as when you're there," he said. "But thankfully there's still some sort of order."

Hermione sighed with relief. One of the reasons she never left for a vacation was due to her overwhelming fear that the lab would turn into a vortex of chaos and candy. God did those mad scientists love their candy.

"Oh, that's so lovely to hear. My minions are learning," she said happily.

"Excuse me….your what?" Alex asked, puzzled.

"Er……my co-workers. My **co-workers** are learning. Um….to…stand on their own….uh, their own two….feet…" Hermione trailed off, mumbling. Dear heavens, did she just say 'minions' outloud? In front of a sophisticated bunch like Alex Grace and company!

"A-are you sure? I'm pretty sure you said min-"

"Co-workers," she said firmly. Believe in your words, and they will believe; believe in your words, and they will believe, she chanted to herself.

Alex decided to let the matter drop. "Alright." He turned to the blonde girl. "Do you need to go, Amelia?"

"Yes, actually. I have an appointment with Candie in fifteen minutes," she said, trying to not sound anxious to leave.

Hermione winced. She could practically **_taste_** the cutesy warping of the name. Absolutely disgusting.

"Oh, then I won't keep you. It was very nice bumping into both of you," Hermione paused. "Well, not really." She gestured to the stain.

And then something amazing happened. For the first time since Hermione has known him, Alex laughed. Hermione had to hold back a gasp of surprise. He had a **_wonderful_** laugh. Rich and genuine.

Still with a rare smile on his face, he waved goodbye to her. "Enjoy your holiday, Hermione."

She nodded dazedly, waving back. After Alex and the blonde disappeared around the corner, Hermione managed to whisper, "Yeah, thanks…."

She shook herself out of her stupor and looked into her bag of food to see if anything was smushed. When finding nothing wrong, she looked at the stain on her coat, wondering if she should save it to remind herself of this day.

"Honestly, are any of you of magical abilities?" an even deeper baritone voice asked.

Hermione froze. There was only one voice that sounded that aristocratic, that annoying, that dangerous…….

"What are you blithering on about, Malfoy?" she asked coolly. Of all the days to bump into him….

Draco Malfoy. The biggest thorn in her side. Never mind that he was one of the most decorated war heroes next to Harry and Ron. Never mind that he risked life and limb for the Order. To her, he was still that bratty kid from Hogwarts that lived to annoy her. Except more sexy. Which, surprisingly, made her dislike him even more. People that pretty needed to be beaten in the face in order to make everyone else in the world feel better about themselves.

He was now the head Chair of the Ministry Department of Funding – a position that practically made him the King in their administration. Anybody who needed funding needed to go to him, begging, pleading, and crying for the money. Even Arthur had to kiss up to him smarmy arse. The position did nothing to deflate his ego. And in Hermione's case, he always, ALWAYS, had to make her jump through hoops for him every time they needed even the tiniest beaker replaced. Sadistic bastard.

Draco pointed his wand at the huge coffee stain. "Scourgify!"

And Hermione's everlasting memory of Alex's laugh was forever removed. She stared at him aghast. Her…..her precious souvenir!

"Now Granger, I know what you're thinking," he said imperiously. "But despite your surprise, I am, in actuality, a wonderful, wonderful man. Full of kindness, compassion, and love."

"I know you're full of something else…" she muttered unhappily. Oh, would he just leave so she could sulk properly? She'd be damned if she let Malfoy know how much she treasured a stain.

"Tsk tsk," he chastised. "Is that what you say to someone who lent a helping hand?"

"This isn't going on our bill, is it?" she asked suspiciously. Draco had created ("Specifically for you!" he had crowed) a tab bill for her and her entire insane department, and subsequently billed her for things from lab equipment to taxes on "high body temperature, thus causing the Ministry to increase Cooling Charm energy by .000385." It was a good thing her department enjoyed frozen and freeze-dried food for lunch – they could afford no better.

He laughed. Hermione hated to admit it, but when not being snarky and evil about it, Malfoy had a nice laugh too. Deep and rippling.

"You're on holiday, aren't you? I'm not so cruel as to dock you out on the streets," his lips curled to a sinful smirk. He began playing with his ridiculously expensive cuffs and cuff links. Oooh, they were _sparkly_….

"So tell me, how _are_ you going to spend all two…all two….weeks…" He narrowed his eyes when he realized Hermione wasn't paying attention to him in the least. He followed her eyes; he moved his arms to the left.

Her head turned with them.

Swish.

Turn.

Swish.

Turn.

Swish swish.

Turn turn.

He heaved a sigh as he removed the shiny cuff links. He grabbed her arm and shoved them into her hand. "Dammit Granger, these are the third pair I had to relinquish in order to get your attention," he said gruffly, straightening his sleeves.

She moved the links in her hand, enjoying their sparkling clinking. She quickly put them in her pockets for later ogling.

"First off, no one is making you give them to me. Secondly, your stupid bill cancels out the costs of these cuff links," here he coughed haughtily. He doubted even her yearly salary could equal the price on any of _his_ belongings.

"THIRDLY," she continued loudly, ignoring him, "It's not like you can't afford a bit of charity once in awhile. You spoiled poof."

Draco sneered. Seemed some of his good humor was beginning to wane. Hermione enjoyed nothing more than to break through his stupid "I'm better than you, thus you can never touch me emotionally" façade and reveal the bratty, childish, true face of Malfoy.

"Yes, I suppose charity is needed, especially in your case," he said nastily. "You can't do any better."

Hermione glared. True, she technically started the nastiness, but oh, the words that come out of that gorgeous mouth. She straightened herself and began marching past him.

"I don't need this from you today, ferret," she said angrily. "We can continue this in two weeks. Until then, go wreak your despair on some other poor soul."

She didn't wait for his response and after turning the corner, Apperated back to her apartment. With a heavy sigh, she sat down with a thud on her ugly sofa. What a day. Her one ray of happiness had come with a big price.

Diary Entry No. 47, Vol. V

I saw the one who I've had my eye – oh, bugger it. I'll write it out in plain view.

ALEX GRACE, the one I've been secretly admiring all these years, has not only seen me in my worst form, but I have visual confirmation that he's seeing someone. And she was bloody gorgeous. Of course Alex would go for someone like her. With looks like his, he has the luxury of picking and choosing.

I wonder what he sees in her. Alex doesn't strike me as the type who would just fall for a pretty face. Knowing my luck, she's probably a genius, a prodigy that our generation should bow down to. Witty, sophisticated, cultured. Merlin I have never been so close to hating a person out of jealousy before. I must control myself.

It's just that Alex is so….so…perfect. That's the only way to describe him. I've never been the type who just falls for people – it takes me a long time of evaluating and questioning and thinking before deciding that yes, yes I do like him. Most don't make the cut. But Alex fits every criteria that I have for a perfect boyfriend and more. He's grounded, confident, but not arrogant, loyal, experienced, intelligent, reliable, handsome, well-liked, a man of few but meaningful words……and the list goes on.

Of course someone like him dangling right in front of me for so long would be snatched away. The hurt and disappointment hasn't really settled in yet. I'll try to avoid it for as long as possible.

Instead, I have to deal constantly with people like Draco Malfoy; his physical appearance makes you ache, but if you had one iota of a brain cell, his personality would make you gag with disgust.

NO! No more thinking of that ferret! He should not waste anymore more of my precious diary space.

TO THE EATING.

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One week into her vacation, Hermione was growing bored out of her mind. The days were getting longer, and there was only so much time one could spend reading books in the library UNRELATED to her field of interest before feeling restless. So with a heavy heart, she made a decision. Early Monday morning, she snuck back into the lab to take some reports and documents home to peruse over. Nothing too dense, just enough to keep her up to speed and focused. Tip -toeing out of her office, she noticed something was peculiar in the atmosphere.

Tense.

Nervous.

……LUST!

Her laboratory was no place for copulations! She smartly barged through the double swinging doors to the lab to find all her minions crowding around in a circle. Most were oblivious to her presence. Until….

"Dr. Granger!" someone cried.

"Oh nooooo!" someone else to the left wailed. "We're not prepared!"

She looked around. "What's going on here?" She worked her way through the crowd into the center. Only to discover the devil in blonde hair.

"Malfoy!" she yelped. "What in God's name are you doing in the dungeon?" Another cute name for the lab.

"Dungeon? How kinky of you Granger," he murmured. There was…..something off about him today. His eyes….

They were **_sparkling_**.

"What's going on? What's happening!" she asked frantically, looking around for answers. A glittery-eyed Malfoy meant a pleased Malfoy, and a pleased Malfoy……

"You couldn't have come at a better time! Kudos to your wonderful timing," he said gleefully. It looked like he was desperately trying hard not the rub his hands together like a villain.

Typically Slytherin habits.

"Since last Thursday's ah….unfortunate accident," he began, interrupted by some moaning in the crowd. "The Ministry and the departments of Funding and Internal Affairs collaborated and have come to a final decision. As I've just told everyone else, this research department, out of all of our research departments, has had the most accidents, incidents, and interventions ever recorded. Unfortunately, it's also one of our most important departments, so funding is crucial and cannot be pulled."

She sighed with so relief; at least they weren't going to be axing anybody. She was too used to there being….accidents to be properly outraged anymore. She'll ask Rudy later. He was the department's top gossip monger.

"Therefore, voted unanimously, starting today, this department will be having a watchdog manager to help prevent accidents and properly assess funding on a constant minute-to-minute basis. Prior to this method, there had only been blanket estimations for the department, leading to either unnecessary increase in cost to the Ministry, or lack of proper funding. And the one who will be doing the assessing, Granger," here he finally turned to her, his eyes practically mad with delight.

"**Is me."**

And a pleased Malfoy meant a truly, honestly, completely _fucked_ Hermione.

"Think of me as the producer to your entertainingly quaint play!" he cried to the crowd, unhealthily pleased with the situation.

The crowd hesitantly clapped. They were confused. The words coming out of his mouth were disturbing, and the glint in his eye was scary……but the enthusiasm! And prettiness! Who could not clap to that?

The clapping grew stronger.

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Diary Entry No. 48, Vol. V

Reasons why my life is shit, cont.:

Draco Malfoy is alive.

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Well, that's it for now. Sorry about the format – still not sure how it goes!


	3. Shacking Up

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 03

Disclaimer: Why must we fanfic writers be forced to do a disclaimer every time we release a chapter? It's pure torture, it is. What would happen if I just started saying in my disclaimer that Harry Potter WAS mine? And everybody should pay me royalties? Would I get arrested? This experiment will continue in the next post. For now, Harry Potter is not mine. Boo hoo.

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Diary Entry No.49, Vol V

When Malfoy announced that he was to be shacking up, **indefinitely**, with us, I nearly fainted. US. We barely get through any of our assignments without getting arrested when no one's looking. How are we to survive with someone breathing down our necks all the time? Damn Ministry, don't they understand corners NEED to be cut sometimes; that following "laws" isn't the most practical thing to do sometimes? We deliver results, don't we? What more do they want?

I would have already thought that we're royally screwed if an unbiased, third party manager was assigned to us, but Malfoy? We're dead. Utterly dead. I'M utterly dead.

Oh cruel cruel fates, can't you smile down on me for once!

I'm sure that stupid, inbred, albino little rodent has had it in for me from day one, and now after all those years of plotting, he's going to deliver the killing blow. Oooh, don't think I'm not going down without a fight. I will take you with me if that's what it takes.

Tomorrow morning, I will find Ronald, and he and I will **_have words_**.

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"Roooooon! Why! Why'd you do it Ron? I thought…I thought we were friends!" a voiced wailed down the hall in the Department of Internal Affairs.

"I read the dockets! If only one, ONE person nay-ed, the matter wouldn't have passed! WHY RON!" the wailing voice continued, increasing in volume and octave.

"Hermione! Stop it! You're making a scene!" a very, very embarrassed Ron hissed. He looked around frantically, sweating slightly as the crowd was growing bigger.

"N-nothing to see here folks! Heh heh…you know how things go…time of the month….er," he said nervously, a wavering smile plastered on his face.

He quickly clamped his hand on her arm and forcibly dragged her into the office. Slamming the door shut, he turned to her, his face desperate.

"Look, 'Mione, I'm really really sorry, but I HAD to vote yes! Your department is costing this administration thousands of unnecessary Gaellons! Last Thursday's accident really pissed off a lot of people – you should have seen it! It was all so pink and gooey and spiky…..I-I really don't want to think about it anymore." He pause, shuddering. He rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the pain of the memory. He shook himself.

"A good lot of our people are seeking therapy now – on **our** money! Anything pink is now banned in certain sectors of the Ministry! You have any idea on how much that's going to cost? This is serious. I can't, in good conscious, just leave your department to its own devices!" He finished, looking at Hermione, hopeful she would see reason. He paled.

Oh no.

Not **_that_** face.

**_That_** face being when her eyes grew large, sparkling with tears. Cheeks and nose cutely rosey. The wobbly lips.

She delicately dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes. With a sniff, she replied, "But….but _why_ Malfoy? I thought you, out of everybody here, would know that he's out to get me. What happened? What happened to **_us_**? " Her voice was perfectly watery, perfectly pitiable.

Ron groaned, shoving his hand through his fiery hair. Do. Not. Let that voice get to you. Or the guilt trip. How many times had he been a sucker to this? Too many to count.

"It was either him, or nobody, 'Mione. I'm sorry, I'm really am. But he's not that bad anymore, trust me. He's still a snarky bastard, and I'd punch his lights out if I ever got the chance, but,…. he's different now. He's…….responsible. He can do this." He sat down next to her, clasping her hand into his.

She coolly pulled it away, turning away from him. Ron sighed. "What can I do to make this right? I can't take back my vote; the decision has already gone through the channels. Please 'Mione, you know I can't feel good again until you've stop pouting."

Hermione secretly smiled. Oh, pouting was the best discovery she had ever discovered, back in 7th year. She kicked herself for not drawing upon this goldmine sooner. Before, Hermione had to fight tooth and nail to get her way with her boys, mostly through yelling, glaring, and lecturing. Success rate was barely over 50, and it took so much effort it barely seemed worth it in the end. She had never resorted to pouting because it seemed so…..weak.

But when she realized she was capable of pouting – something usually reserved for cute, pretty, girly girls – and was damn good at it, things became infinitely easier.

For her, that is.

Just wobble the lips, sniff, bambi-up those eyes, and talk about **us**, and **friendship**, and it was smooth sailing. Harry and Ron were the biggest suckers out of all of them to her pouting act – she just needed to push the right buttons. So far, her act has 100 chance of success. This was why Hermione believed females were by far the better sex. Who else could get their way with a choice of being strong OR weak?

Now, for the kill.

"Well….," she said with a sigh. Ron leaned closer, eager.

"It's just that…Malfoy may not be Lucifer's godson to **you**, but he is to me Ron! He says awful, nasty things, and always, ALWAYS finds way to make me feel bad! He constantly calls me names, and he looks down on me, and he makes everything harder on me, just out of spite," she said tearfully, strategically grabbing Ron's arm.

"He..he's really that horrible with you?" Ron said tightly, tilting her face to meet his eyes.

Hermione blinked, a tear falling tastefully down her cheek. She nodded wordlessly, snuggling her head in the crook of his neck.

Ron's breathing was ragged, his ears reddening. "Don't you worry about a thing, 'Mione, I'll make this right. I'll do whatever it takes to get someone else on the job! You just go enjoy the rest of your holiday, I need to start doing the paperwork. He won't be able to step foot in your department when I'm done," he said fiercely.

Hermione had to school her face into one of sadness turning to hopefulness, not gleeful triumph. "Oh, thank you Ron! I'm so sorry about the things I said – you truly are my best friend!" she threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

Ron patted her back and lightly kissed her cheek. "Yes yes, I know. You say that every time I give in like a fool," he said ruefully. "Now get out of here, you silly girl."

Hermione winked and blew him a kiss as she sauntered out of his office.

Oh, Malfoy, you thought you won, didn't you?

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"WHAT IS GOING ON!" Hermione practically screamed, her good mood instantly disappearing.

There was moving of desks, papers flying, people running! Hermione was suddenly not in the mood for 'frantic.' Everybody halted what they were doing and turned to her. They collectively shifted backwards, leaving the newbie to stand out in front.

"You!" Hermione barked. "Why isn't anybody working?"

"Um…," the squeaky boy pipped out. "T-the new manager said we h-had to help him move in…..a-and clean up after…ourselves?" he finished nervously, looking to his new co-workers for support.

"I see," she said through gritted teeth. Him? Using **_her_** minions to do stupid, meaningless, menial tasks when they had to fracture that poison mod that they found in the alleyways of Berlin two months ago? They haven't got the **time**!

"Well, you can go tell our new manager he can stick it up his arse!" she declared hotly. She saw the alchemists breathe a sigh of relief. "He has no idea how we work around here, and I'll be damned if he's going to be pushing us around! Back to work my lovelies, we have a poison to break!"

Amidst their cheering – breaking a poison meant playing with spiffing potions – Hermione practically ran over to a hastily renovated office to see a slightly ruffled Malfoy arguing with someone from Supplies via fireplace communication.

" – why can't I get the bloody chair? Do you know who you're denying, you insolent sod!"

"SIR, I understand you're upset, but currently, under the Supplies Distribution Programme, managers are NOT allowed to have executive leather chairs!" the exasperated intern declared. Oh, just a few more months of this and soon, sweet release to managerial training!

"All I can do for you is to send up a nice upholstered swivel chair. Would you like that? Would you like a swivel chair?" The intern attempted a cooing, comforting voice, but it wasn't very good.

"Stop talking to me like I'm fecking 10, boy, or I'll have you out on the streets so fast…-"

"Don't abuse your power Malfoy, it makes you look petty and small," Hermione interrupted. Malfoy whipped his head around and glared.

"Rules are rules, and if you break them, what kind of example are you setting for the rest of us, hm? Mister Watchdog Manager," she continued with a slight smirk.

It looked like Malfoy had to curb himself from launching at Hermione in frustration. After mentally counting to ten, he turned to the fireplace, calmer.

"Fine, send up that damned chair," he grumbled, turning around to focus his attention on other things.

"As you wish, sir," the intern droned, sending a grateful glance at Hermione. She merely smiled and waved him off. The fire immediately died.

"I don't appreciate you butting into my affairs, Granger," he spat while filing some papers.

Hermione instantly retaliated, "I don't appreciate you using my staff as your personal monkeys, either! Getting them to help you set up shop? Telling them to clean up after themselves! We're a poison department Malfoy! We're not here to look pretty!"

"Yes, I can see that's quite obvious," he hissed back, looking at her up and down. Hermione gasped, scandalized. The nerve of this…this…!

She gritted her teeth. Must. Not. Tell him that he's soon to be sacked if Ron did things right. Let the news come as a big surprise. A delicious surprise she would document second by second.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies," she growled. She walked briskly up to him and glared at him. "I don't care what kind of manager you are! I set the rules here and I won't be undermined, do you understand?

"My staff's main priority is to work with poisons and remedies, not cater to your every rich-boy needs. I won't tolerate you changing rules and behavior around this department! You're here to assess damages and funds. Nothing else. Don't you forget that." With that, she turned around and began walking out of the disarrayed office. She would've walked straight out too, if he had not reached out and firmly grabbed her shoulder. Hermione whipped around, smacking his hand off her.

"Don't you DARE touch me, you disgusting man!"

"Calm down Granger! Dammit, take a seat, we need to talk," he bit out, kicking a wooden chair in her direction. She merely glared balefully at it, defiantly remaining standing. Draco let out a huge breath in an attempt at regaining his composure.

"You want to stand in those ugly, and frankly, uncomfortable looking shoes? Fine!" he snapped. Hermione told herself she would not let that comment on her shoes affect her.

"Look, I know we don't have the best…relationship," he said awkwardly, stumbling over the last word like it was some sort of foreign language. Hermione snorted.

"But this is **work**. I'm trying to make this place more efficient, Granger, can't you see that? And merely sitting around tallying up costs and charges isn't enough! If I see a method that could be changed to help the Ministry, it's within my powers to change it. You won't tolerate me changing things around here? I won't tolerate _you_ clinging onto your old ways like a spoilt child just because you don't like me!" he finished with a jab of a finger in her direction.

"And I'm to believe you're not going to turn the place upside-down just to satisfy your power trip? Yes, some things could be changed to make things more efficient, but you don't know this staff! All the mad scientists, all the A.D.D geniuses, all the reject prodigies from all over the world are **_here_**. Normal methods don't work with them! Everyone, including the Ministry's precious money, would benefit if you just don't meddle with something that works!" she explained, exasperated.

"Things most certainly are NOT working! Were you here Thursday! Did you see that…pink….**_tragedy_**? I assure you, that bloody incident is clear evidence that this department needs some reform!" Even Malfoy seemed affected by the incident Thursday. Whatever it was. He seemed a bit pale. More than usual, that is.

"Speaking of pink tragedies, what was Thursday all about anyways? No one will tell me." Hermione was peeved with this. Not even Rudy would let her know what had happened. Hopefully Malfoy would let her in on the secret – unless he too appeared to be too traumatized to talk about it.

"You don't need to know about that," he dismissed with a wave of a hand. Yup, traumatized. "In any case, I'm done with this discussion. My judgment of the situation can be trusted and I **_can_** make this work. You'll just have to learn to deal with it." He appeared to be in a better mood, as his tone was once again snarky and arrogant.

Hermione gritted her teeth. It was like talking to a brick wall. "The only reason I'm going to not continue this discussion, _Malfoy_, is not because you say so, but because your very presence nauseates me. If you want to change anything, and I mean anything, down to the miniscule detail, you will bring it up with me first!"

With that, she once again began leaving the office when his voice stopped her dead her tracks.

"Oh, and Granger? Weasley won't be getting rid of me anytime soon," he said confidently, his voice oozing like dark chocolate. "He doesn't have the power. Not this time."

Not daring to turn around, Hermione shakily replied, "I have no idea what you're on about."

She quickly left, not wanting to continue the conversation. She was a terrible liar. Damn! How did he find out so quickly? Or was he merely guessing? Oh damn damn damn! Damn him!

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

To: Minister Arthur Weasley

Subject: Retraction of Vacation

Type: URGENT

Dear Arthur, I am writing to you to announce that I have decided to cut my holiday short and will be returning to work promptly tomorrow morning. Please make sure the Data Department record the change correctly. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Ministry Department of Poisons and Remedies

Head Alchemist

P.S. – Tell Molly thank you for the lovely pound cake. I ate it all in one sitting.

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Sorry for the short chapter, but that's all I can think of for now! I hope you all are enjoying it! Thanks for the nice comments – I live for them like I live for Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Mmmmm deliciousness. Send more my way!


	4. DoeEyed Maiden

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter: 04

Disclaimer: Continued from last time – I OWN HARRY POTTER! NOW PAY ME ROYALTIES! FOR I AM THE CREATOR OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE AND THEN SOME! (….or not. You know, whichever is convenient for you). Dammit, not mine!

* * *

Hermione watched everyone like a hawk, waiting for the tiniest change in behavior. The only person she wouldn't look at was Draco, lest she lose her self-control and begin yelling at him for just being alive. She hated how Malfoy was the only who could make her lose her self-composure at a drop of a hat. Just one word, one look, and she was seeing red. So by ignoring him, she might be able to keep the peace. She thought it was quite noble of her, actually.

There was rustling of papers coming from Draco's direction. A cough. A muffled cough. A "hmmmm." A small chuckle.

Oh for crying out loud….

"What is so amusing?" she asked scathingly, wanting him to know full well she wasn't asking out of friendliness.

"I was reading some past employee reports," Malfoy said with a slight grin on his face, not at all affected by Hermione's bad attitude. He began reading one of them, " '…and frankly, this department doesn't need to have another person with such a nice looking bum. It is distracting and not efficient. Please remedy.' " He turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand.

As the Ministry was essentially a bureaucratic organization, it was only natural to have monthly/yearly employee evaluations and reports. However, in this department's case, the documents were much more unorthodox than the rest. Hermione flushed. Her staff really, REALLY needed to take those evaluations more seriously. Damned if she let him know it though.

"Well, you're a man, aren't you? **Isn't** it distracting?" she asked haughtily, sticking her nose in the air a bit.

And then he did something she would rather die than describe later.

He smiled at her.

**Predatorily.**

His eyes darkened as he lowered his head a little and glanced up at her. His voice deepened. "I find it _very_ distracting," he drawled, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione felt like she had a cooler of ice water dumped into her body. She had never felt so uncomfortable. To have someone THAT good looking, to look at someone like HER like that…..

She snapped back to reality. That's right! As if he would even look at her like that! He just did it to make her uncomfortable: Oh, look at that frumpy prude Granger blush at my sinful gaze. Ha Ha Ha! She scowled at him.

"Pig," she muttered as she turned back to watching the lab. Draco chuckled and went back to reading the reports.

* * *

Hermione decided she could no longer stand being in the same room as Draco, and opted for a nice lunch out in one of the cafes nearby. After a treat of ice cream, she dubbed herself satisfied enough to tackle the rest of the day.

Upon arriving at the Dungeon, she didn't find him at his seat, which made her a tad nervous. She quickly walked up and down the sectors, trying to find him and keep him from mischief. She spotted him speaking with Franco Monteleone, an Italian who was too giddy about fire for his own good.

Franco appeared thoughtful, speaking earnestly with Malfoy. Hermione's thoughts immediately turned to suspicion. Was he spilling about that time she smacked him across the face? Because it really wasn't her fault if one looked at it from an unbiased, third-person perspective. She softly crept towards them, dreading the Hermione-bashing that she would surely come upon.

To her surprise, Franco was having….well, a serious discussion with Malfoy. It was already hard to see Fire-Fly-Franco holding a decent conversation, but Draco Malfoy? The one who believed himself above all other humans and thus needn't waste his time caring about others? The haughty, arrogant, picky, selfish prick who would sooner rip off his own foot rather than lend a helping hand? Hermione was intrigued.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, I just can't seem to concentrate when things are like this," he said softly, his Italian accent lilting his voice amorously.

As their conversation went on, Hermione pieced together that apparently, Franco's family was in danger of being deported, so his productivity and concentration was beginning to be affected. Malfoy evidently picked up on this. Hermione was taken aback at how human Draco was acting. He listened to Franco voice his fears for as long as he liked, with patience she never knew he had. It's like…he was actually interested. And she hated to admit it, but when he sat like that, leaning forward, his eyes intense, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration… he looked…well…handso –

"_He looks **decent**_," she thought firmly.

Malfoy throughout the rest of the day, focused on Franco's problem – calling leads, informants, people he knew that owed him favors – anybody and everybody he could pull strings with to solve it. He tackled the challenge level-headedly, with a large amount of charm and threats. Hermione then remembered that she had seen this side of Draco before. His behavior brought her back to the days in the war camps. Efficient yet detached.

That was what he was doing now; searching for the enemy, strategizing, organizing enforcements, executing meticulously thought out tactics. It was all very military and looked slightly out of place in an office setting. In fact, not only was he part of the soldiers division that fought in the forefront, he was also a member of the Strategos team that devised and planned attacks against the Dark Side. When the cause benefited him, Malfoy could work harder and better at winning than any other.

Hermione had no illusions that Malfoy, then and now, was helping anybody out of things like compassion and friendship. In the past, Draco realized, for reasons known only to him, he couldn't fight alongside Voldemort; he found this out the hard way, by not being able to follow orders and ultimately fleeing and betraying the Dark Lord. If the Light didn't win the battle, torture and death awaited him.

That was why Hermione was the first to believe that he would be no traitor to the Light and fought to have him join the Order. Behind his back, of course. If he knew that she practically begged the counsel to not lock Malfoy up, she would kill herself rather than see that look on his face. She knew he would one of the key members that would overturn the tide. And she had been right.

Watching him now, she knew things would turn out okay in the end. He hadn't changed. He loved his job – he loved the power, he loved the leadership, he loved the perks. His job now included taking care of her department. Put two and two together, and we have a Malfoy who would fight tooth and nail to make sure things would run smoothly. A father's love protecting his own child probably pales in comparison to Malfoy's urge to survive.

Still, it pained her that he was the one Franco turned to. Didn't she have a more intimate relationship with Franco? Didn't they work together longer, get along better? They had gone out for drinks with the rest of the department, been to office parties together, laughed and cried together. But in a manner of two days, he went to Draco and spilled his heart out.

"_Always_," she thought bitterly, emotions she thought long dead rising to the surface. "_It was **always** him._"

Hermione glared at him, her temples throbbing with suppressed emotions. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest; her face flushed due to erratic breathing. _Why must it always be him?_

She suddenly snapped out of it, shuddering. The world once again came into focus, the sounds of the office rose back to normal levels. Hermione had to get out of there. Walk briskly down the corridors, she ducked her head low, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.

She shivered. She…she was supposed to be over this. It was **_past_**.

Hermione thought those emotions had faded after the Great Purge. Why were they resurfacing? She felt ashamed. She was better than this. She absent-mindedly slumped into a nearby chair and rubbed her temples. She didn't want to reacquaint herself with her past self. She took a few deep breaths.

She glanced at her watch. 15:45. Her hand was shaking.

* * *

Diary Entry No. 50, Vol. V

I thought myself better than this. I am filled with petty emotions. Petty, immature, disgusting emotions. I truly……I….

…I don't know. I don't know what to make of it all. Could I really be that despicable? That low?

Why can't I be like everyone else?

* * *

Draco was having a far better day. A fantastic day, in fact. He got to annoy Granger, his position as manager went unquestioned, and he had just solved Franco's home situation. Productivity in the fire bugger should rise as a result. It was a good day.

He was used to people always giving him what he wanted. Doing what he wanted. It came with being a Malfoy. The images of his father, his ancestors, and the tower of wealth he possessed behind him were enough to make anyone cower before him.

After awhile, it began to feel empty. Despite what Potter and Weasely thought, Draco was clear-minded and knew how to look at himself honestly when the occasion arose. He knew what was on people's minds. And he didn't like it. He knew at a young age that if one were to strip him of his family name, of his wealth, was there really so much to respect and fear?

The answer was no. He was petty, uncompromising, short-sighted. Once he saw himself bare, he worked hard to change. He educated himself; he was already ahead of most of his peers due to his wealthy upbringing, and his drive to broaden his horizon was enormous. At Hogwarts, he and Hermione were often point-for-point for the top of the class. He sharpened his wit, his charm to create allies and sources, connections he could rely on based on his own ability to build a relationship.

Now, people came to him for his abilities and talent alone. He was just as revered – no, even more so – now than ever. Everything he had was forged by his own two hands. And he knew it irked his old nemesis Granger to no end. One of her favorite insults in the past was taunting him about daddy buying everything for him, how he'd be nothing without him. Now she can't do anything but steam in her own frustrated soup. Served her right for thinking she was the only one who worked hard for anything.

Malfoy looked around. Where was the little she-devil anyhow? He was certain she was trailing his every breath, but now she just seemed to have disappeared. Interesting.

He casually strolled down the corridors, nodding at people greeting him, stopping to chat with a few people about work related issues. A few secretaries had some non-work related topics they wished to discuss. With a charming smile, he assured them perhaps later, in a more cozy, private setting.

He found Hermione sitting in a hallway, a hand covering her eyes as she breathed shakily. She looked like hell. He felt a need to share this information with her accordingly.

"What's the matter Granger? Miss me that much?" he drawled with a bored expression on his face, leaning against the wall next to her.

She jumped up with a start, and whipped her head around to face him. Draco was surprised at the wide range of emotions that passed through her large chocolate eyes: surprise, anger, panic, finally resignation.

"Malfoy," she greeted him hesitantly. He noticed she took no notice of his jib.

"What are you doing? You don't seem very productive," he said, his condescending tone a bit more forced than usual.

"Wha – I – I'll have you know – how dare you – " she sputtered, her body tensing. "This could have been another vacation day for me, **_Malfoy_**, instead I stayed to ensure you don't turn this department into your next house elves cleaning crew!"

He waved his hand out at her dismissively, although a bit relieved she was back to normal. If she went all…emotional on him, he wouldn't know what to do. It would be like a man faced with a cow on his doorstep, pleading him not to eat her son there on his plate. Too surreal.

"Yes well, I don't recall asking for your unnecessary return, and if you were paying attention, I was doing very good deeds. Santa would be quite proud of me," he responded with a smirk.

It irritated her when he dropped muggle tidbits into his everyday speech. It was just so hypocritical. AND he had to be correct in his usage. No fellytone business that allowed her a gap in which to mock him.

"I wasn't aware Santa Claus considered amoebas sentient enough to be added to the 'coal' list," Hermione snapped.

"Ouch, Granger, it sounds as though you have some bitterness in you. Surprising," Draco chuckled back. If for nothing else, arguing with Granger really stretches one's mind.

"Har har har. Original."

"Well, considering your poor memory abilities, I find it unnecessary to create new insults and waste energy."

"Poor memory abilities! Since when!"

"Ahem…."

They both turned to see Alex Grace, with one eyebrow raised. Hermione had the grace to cough embarrassedly, while Draco was unabashed.

"Grace," he said with a nod, turning to him. "A bit too loud, I gather?"

"Slightly," he said not unkindly. He turned to Hermione, who flushed.

"Sorry Alex, I'm a bit….out of sorts lately," she mumbled feebly. Malfoy noticed her new meek demeanor, and didn't like this gentle, wilting Granger one bit.

"It's quite all right, I just wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly," Alex responded.

"Er, well, it is, I think…. that is, it is, to my knowledge," her words tumbled out of her mouth awkwardly. She fidgeted with her blazer lapel. The frumpy, used, non-tailored state of her clothes was suddenly all too clear to her.

Alex looked over at her. "Overseeing the transition is my job, Hermione. You really shouldn't be here."

Her eyes grew wide and she bit her lip nervously. Draco's eyes narrowed. She only did that when faced with disapproval from someone she held in high regard. He knewher. He **_knew_**.

"I..I just…," she stammered.

For God's sake….. Draco rolled his eyes. Was there no end to this?

"We won't keep you Grace," Draco cut in. Enough was enough. This was sickening. He firmly grasped Hermione's shoulder. "Come on Granger, there's some funds I want you to go over with me."

With a quick jerk, he pushed Hermione along to the end of the corridor, marching her straight into his office. He didn't fail to notice her silent submissiveness. He slammed the door shut, which jolted her out of her reverie. She looked around and awkwardly patted her hair.

"Done making doe eyes, Granger?" Malfoy sneered. "Don't bother denying anything. I know the signs."

She opened and closed her mouth like an indignant fish. Of all people to know her secret feelings. OF ALL PEOPLE! Did she curse cruel fate yet? Because now would be a good time.

Denying it was a waste of breath. Malfoy was uncannily good at reading people, and more so when it came to women's behavior around men. Her mind raced. She decided to play it cool. And so she shrugged. Which surprised him a bit.

"So what if I do? I don't recall it being a crime," was her nonchalant question.

It wasn't the response he was expecting. Leave it to Granger to constantly surprise him. He was expecting full on denial, which he would gleefully chip away, and then lots of blushing and stammering and promises to keep things a secret. He wasn't expecting such a mature, experienced take on her part.

Well, she **was** blushing, if it was any consolation to him. It wasn't really, surprisingly.

"I suppose it shocked me, to see the androgynous bookworm falling for such a uninteresting man. But then again, who else would be attractive to you?"

That stung. A lot. But she refused to let him see how much it hurt her. It was a matter of pride.

"Certainly not some disease ridden, over-glorified nymphomaniac man whore," she viciously shot back. Alex was plenty interesting!

He raised his eyebrows. He could almost **_see_** her claws. He casually sat in his new swivel chair. Almost civilly, he started, "You know, word has it that he's – "

"Taken? I'm aware of that," she said coldly. "Thank you for bringing that up as well, Malfoy. Now if you'll excuse me, I will not waste my time talking to you about this subject anymore. Or **ever**."

Damn, her eyes were tearing up. She had to get out of there, **now**.

As she turned to grab the knob to the door, Draco quietly stated, "You know what I meant."

Her shoulders sagged and she looked over her shoulder at him, an emotion passing through her eyes that seemed to age her considerably. They continued to look at each other for a few moments.

"Yeah."

With that, she silently closed the door behind her.

* * *

As Hermione prepared to leave work for the day, she heard heavy, confident footsteps behind her. She sighed, really not too happy to put up a fierce front.

_What does he want now?_

After her little exchange with him, she was considering just forgetting about Alex and just go back to being an unfeeling creature, true to her reputation. Why fight it? She was too tired to try to turn her life around. Her life had been turned around enough times.

The footsteps stopped behind her, but he didn't seem to be in a hurry to speak. Impatiently – she wanted to go home _dammit_ – she turned around, ready to start this inevitable scathing conversation when –

"Oh, Alex!"

* * *

YAY! Sorry about the huge gap in updates folks, but life is sticky when riddled with midterms and stupid stuff like that. Don't worry, I haven't given up on this yet! Please, PLEASE, any sort of feedback is appreciated! Thanks and goodnight! 


	5. A Spark

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 05

Disclaimer: I don't see why can't I own this series. I mean, I already get all the credit for the books and movies, plus all the money that comes from all the franchising ..and…wait…..ah shit….no I don't.

* * *

"Oh, Alex!" 

Alex Grace tilted his head, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. "Hermione?"

Her heart jolted a little. Okay okay, screeching out his name and looking like a deer caught in headlights may have startled the man.

Regroup.

She coughed and waved her hand at him, dismissing the previous awkwardness. "Sorry Alex, I was thinking about a….a…."

_Think woman, THINK!_

"Oh, that new Charles Gassiger book, you know, that one about the mother that's only alive at night, and her son…you….know? I was so immersed in thought…for a second I uh…..yes…"

oh….that was…..mediocre. That gets a 4.5 on the bullshit meter.

At first she didn't know if it would even fly, he DID look a bit skeptical. She felt the distinct fear-moisture gathering at her brow. Then his face brightened.

"Oh, that ridiculous horror that's set in Africa?" he chuckled, melting her heart. He gave her an amused, incredulous look. "I heard rumors that you read everything, but I thought you'd have better things to do than read Gassigers."

Hermione laughed. Later, she would realize it was the first time she felt completely natural around him. And….it felt nice.

"Well, it sounds like you read it yourself, Alex," she said, giving him a wry smile.

"I read the book review in the Daily Prophet, like a normal wizard," he said with a grin. "Have you read a decent book lately, like Maira Devount's?"

"Oh…yes, yes I have!" she said, ecstatic that he, _anybody_, had a book interest, just like her. "Did you read the original French or the translation?"

"Actually, I felt the English transferred a lot of the nuances from the original version…."

They must have stood there a good 20, 30 minutes chatting amiably; some might even call it excitedly. Everything just flowed organically and it was just the kind of conversation she loved: witty, informed, warm. Of all the years she had known him, never had she seen such a side to him. Never had he acted this close to her.

_Why can't you always look at me like this?_

Just as there was an impasse from laughing at a quote of particularly humorous passage, Hermione interjected, "Alex? I'm sorry, did you want to talk to me about something?"

"I did, actually," he said, his bright blue eyes softening. "I wanted to apologize for earlier - I'm afraid it didn't come off quite as I intended."

Hermione swore her face turned beet-red. Whatever he wanted to apologize for, just his face alone would have been suffice.

"R-really? For what?" she said faintly, barely even remembering her age or place of birth, much less anything he could have said.

"For what I said earlier, about how you shouldn't be here." Oh yeah. That did sting. "What I meant was, you shouldn't waste your holiday fretting about work. If anything went wrong, I would have taken care of it for you."

Oh sweet merciful Merlin. This man is beautiful.

"No no, I didn't take offense!" _Liar_. "It's not like I don't trust your abilities, Alex – " _Saying his name, addressing him, is heaven_ – "I just don't trust….**him**." Thinking about Draco put a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Who, Draco Malfoy? They say he's highly competent, and he's moved up in ranks rather quickly…" Alex trailed off, perplexed. Hermione sighed.

"Actually, I should edit my last remark. I…I **didn't** trust him. But now that I think about it," she cringed, hoping to high heaven that he wasn't within hearing range, "…he's the best one for the job. I have no doubt about that."

Damn her honesty. No matter how much she disliked Malfoy, it just didn't feel right making him out to be an incompetent buffoon when he obviously wasn't.

He gave her another heart-stopping grin. "Then why did you sound so depressed saying it?"

She smiled, suddenly tired. "We've been sometimes called rivals. It's hard to give that man compliments."

He laughed at that but this time, stabs of pain went into her heart accompanied by sheer ecstasy. They chatted a bit more and she told him she had to run so she could do some grocery shopping. As she was leaving, he called out to her, "Hermione."

She turned, her face flush.

"Remember to lend me that book," he said warmly.

She smiled brightly and continued on her way out. If she stayed still for a few more moments, she would have seen one Draco Malfoy standing in the hallway, hidden from view until Alex also exited the room.

He stared in their direction leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, his eyes hard.

Then he too, turned and left.

* * *

Diary Entry No. 51, Vol. V 

As much as I feel like a jumper-clad schoolgirl going through her first love, I think I'm old enough to know that not everything is fairy-tale perfect. It's times like these I sometimes wish I were I bit thick. You know?

I've known Alex for years, and the interaction we've had in the past few days are more than all those years combined. And this is after I find out he's with someone gorgeous? After I've pretty much decided to give up on him? It…it….

It bloody _hurts_.

Why couldn't things have remained the same? Then I wouldn't know how his eyes glow when he smiles, or how white his teeth are or….how good it feels to be seen as someone interesting. Not as an encyclopedia. Or worse….mousy know-it-all Granger that wears granny panties and as androgynous as a snail and just as pretty.

Now what do I do? Do I delude myself into thinking I have a chance?

Or should I just give up at the one thing that's made my heart sing this special song?

……bollocks, I should give up. Did I really just write, "made my heart sing this special song"? This is the type of lovesick drivel I swore to myself I'd avoid.

I don't know. I just…..don't know.

* * *

Work the next day was going pretty smoothly, to Hermione's surprise. Everybody seemed to be settled in and she was getting a lot of work done. Even interacting with Malfoy was uneventful. They had to exchange a few papers and discuss a few expenses, but it was all so clinical and business-like she would've swore she was dealing with a man wearing a Draco Malfoy costume. At the thought of Madame Madkins having a rack of drooping, Draco Malfoy skins hanging in the back made her giggle. 

"What's so funny?"

Hermione turned quickly, controlling herself. "Hullo Alex, what are you doing here?"

"The Minister wanted to make sure everything is going smoothly. Are you alright?" He ran his hair through his short brown hair. Hermione tried her best to keep from swooning.

"Yes, everything's fine. Oh that reminds me, I have to talk to Arthur about that stupid Ministry gala," she mused, looking over her day-planner.

"It's soon, isn't it," he said. "Do you have anyone in mind as a date?"

She stared at him, incredulous. Did he just ask her that? Did he just _ask_ her **_that_**? Her mind whirled quickly, realizing there were two paths to take. In a split second, she chose.

_How can you ask me that?_

"I-I . . actually don't, but um…I'm actually thinking about not going this year," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. Her heart was pounding, knowing that whatever he said next would seal her decision.

"It's okay not to bring a date Hermione," he said gently, sitting down next to her. "I've actually never had a date to it until this year."

And like that, her heart cracked.

_You are cruel._

She managed to smile weakly. "Thank you, but that's not reason. I actually was thinking about going to Prague to do some research." Before he could say anymore, she continued quickly, "I better get to Arthur, but help yourself to some scones." She motioned to the plate on her desk.

As she was walking, she felt broken but….calm. She turned and said a little bit more firmly, "Oh, and your book is in my bag if you want it. But if you damage it, I damage you, yeah?" She flashed him a cheeky smile.

_Your naivety is so cruel._

* * *

As she turned the corner, she choked back a sob, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. Her other arm clutched her stomach, as if her very innards were to spill. She knew he was taken. She had decided to give up on this whole ridiculous ordeal the second he asked her that question so innocently. Stupid stupid stupid stupid 

God, it hurt more than she thought. More than when she saw him with her on the streets that day. And why? Because she had a taste of what she could never have? Her eyes burned with the tears threatening to spill.

_Pull yourself together_, she hissed to herself. _You are stronger than this. You've been through worse than this. You're a Gryff._

At that thought, she started to calm down. She took a deep breath and shook herself. That's right. She was a Gryffindor. Strong, courageous, and unstoppable.

_I am a **lioness**_, she thought savagely.

She paused. Why did that sound so familiar, like something off the tip of your tongue? She had never…called herself that. Had she? Then why……?

And suddenly a wisp of a memory appeared – a warm, wet mouth whispering fervently in her ear, **_"You are a lioness."_**

She gasped, feeling it tickling her ear and spun around. Nothing. What just happened? She looked around frantically. Was she going mad?

It was so vivid…it must have happened to her. At one time or another. But for her life she couldn't remember when. Or who.

She shook her head, clearing it. Hermione didn't know what was going on, but she was sure it was due to her distress. It was best to put it out of her mind. She headed to the bathroom; no way she looked presentable for the Minister.

Her nerves were feeling a little better after a quick splash of water on her face in the bathroom. As she exited, she daintily dabbed her damp face with her handkerchief, heaving a big sigh.

"Enjoy your trip to the loo that much, Granger?" said a mocking voice.

Hermione forced a growl down her throat. Damned fates, she was already having a shitty day, could they just spare her the pain of his company? Was that so hard to ask? Their relationship was going so well today – distant and sparse.

"Please don't tell me the high and mighty Malfoy had just lowered himself to making comments about toilet trips," she snapped. Just go away, go away.

"If you just looked hard enough, you'd see that I'm a man of many faucets," he said smugly.

God, everything about him was pissing her off.

_Why does he get **everything**?_

She wished that it was anybody else, dear Harry, Ron, Ginny; anybody but him.

"Then let me state for the record that I am relieved I have never wasted more than a few seconds to look at your disgusting form," she snarled.

Draco merely blinked in mild surprise. She hated it when he was so untouchable. She preferred it when he was just as spitting mad as her, yelling and screaming and completely out of control. He was a bit surprised, however, because usually it took a few more exchanges for her to get so fired up. This was supposed to be the warm-up round. He held up both his hands in a sign of complacency.

"Easy, you spit-fire," he said languidly. "Just passing by."

He was right, she was over-reacting. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry Malfoy," she said with a tinge of exhaustion. At this he was truly surprised. Very rarely had he seen her back down this humbly so quickly. "I'm just a bit out of sorts today."

"You weren't out of sorts a hour ago," he pointed out suspiciously. Then it hit him. It always does. He smirked. "Ah, a fall from grace?"

His pun on words was definitely NOT appreciated.

"Please, never, ever say anything that pathetic again," she pleaded, pained by both the subject and his terrible sense of wit.

"Good gods, Granger, did you learn nothing from yesterday?" he asked, exasperated. He ran his hand through his blonde hair.

"But I didn't DO anything!" she cried. How dare he say that when he had no idea what had happened.

"This is coming from the woman of a thousand 'oops'?"

Her eyes narrowed. What kind of stupid moniker was that? She didn't even want to entertain how valid it was, despite the absurd name.

"HE asked me who I was taking to that damn gala," she ground out, embarrassed beyond belief that she was sharing intimate details with Draco Malfoy, of all people. But her pride prevented her from walking away, leaving him thinking she was the one who did something stupid and unnecessary.

"And when I said I wasn't even going to it, he told me EVER so gently that it's alright if I didn't have a date, since he's never had one before either, EXCEPT. THIS. YEAR," she finished, feeling very drained after this admission. Forget it, she didn't care anymore. Let him think of her as a silly bint. She just wanted to go home.

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. She knew he was analyzing her and she wished he would hurry it up. _Go on, Malfoy, let's open all the festering wounds and talk about them, shall we?_

Then he said simply, "You're not going this year? You always go."

She choked a bit. That was a bit of a left-field question. Suspicious, she said carefully, "Yeah, I was thinking about going to Prague."

He scoffed. "What's so good in Prague these days?"

His lofty tones irked her, but her current state of tension was ebbing at this new, neutral subject. "Their Museum of Military History is holding an anniversary celebration where they're having a special showcase on alchemy devices. I figured I'd drop by and take a peak."

He shrugged, obviously not even half as interested as she was. She looked a bit miffed. "It's VERY interesting, Malfoy. And relevant to this department."

Malfoy waved a casual hand at her. "Whatever you say. But if you're intent on skiving off that preposterous farce of a charity ball, don't think for a second that I'm not going to find a way out of it too."

His answer surprised her. She would think such a busy socialite such as Malfoy would adore events like the yearly Ministry gala. After all, one of his goal in life was to absorb as much envy and admiration as possible.

"What, you don't love your doting, adoring fans enough to make an appearance to the biggest event of the year?" she asked snidely.

He must have gave the most elegant snort she had ever heard. "Hardly. It's a sorry excuse of an affair. I have better things to do than to entertain slack-jaw social climbers who have no idea on how to even process the word 'class.'"

At the thought of that, it reminded her of the hilarious hijinks of last year, no doubt a major deciding factor as to why Malfoy despised the gala so much. When he heard her snickering, he knew she hadn't forgotten. "Stop it Granger, it's not funny," he growled.

She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from bowling over. Hermione reveled over the fact that this was one thing Malfoy got antsy over. Gaining control over herself, she managed to retort, "Oh, I know. Dame Griselda would agree that any subject regarding you is a very, very serious topic." Her voice gradually grew deeper, mockingly seductive.

"If that woman were not a part of the Denela house I swear I would go to that old hag and…," Malfoy swore, lost in his own dark, dark musings. Hermione's sniggering brought him out of it. He curled his lip in distaste. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I was going to the Minister right now to tell him about my plans," she said haughtily, pushing her way past him. "A pleasure as always, Malfoy."

"Granger, he's not in – I just came from his office."

Oh bugger. Now what? She shifted her weight to one side, tapping her toe in frustration.

Malfoy groaned, as if someone were pulling his teeth. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, perplexed at his behavior.

"You're not going home are you?" he asked, suddenly very agitated. When she shook her head, he nodded. "Good, I just remembered those FISA documents I need to go over with you."

Hermione blanched. She totally forgot about those. "Noo Malfoy, not today, it's been a very, very bad day."

"Yes, Granger."

"No, PLEASE."

"Granger, YES."

"Don't be cruel, those things are torture!"

"As much as I don't want to be in your company or work on these, we have to. It needs to be done," he said sternly.

Hermione moaned, close to whining. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing the headache to go away as he massaged his temples. "Stop being so bloody difficult."

Close to tears, she shook her head. She deserved at least a trip home to wallow in her grief. She **deserved** at least that.

"What if we did it somewhere more…savory than our current location," he offered.

"Like where," she asked moodily.

"The Golden Egg," he responded casually.

She blinked. "THE Golden Egg? That's the most expensive restaurant on this side of – oh, right. It's you."

"Well?" he asked impatiently. Give this woman a centimeter and she asks for a meter…

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Do I have to change?"

"My answer would be always," he said with a smirk, which she glared at. "But you're in office attire, so technically they can't throw you out. I'll meet you in front in ten minutes."

* * *

It was marvel how an entirely idle conversation could be riddled with so much bickering, but then again that was the brilliance of the infamous Granger-Malfoy dialogues. They were notorious for the most intelligent yet undecipherable exchanges. One needed to be of a high intellect to follow it; as they were rivals, it was customary for them to keep close tabs on each other, thus they knew almost every intimate nuance of each others' life, ready to be picked apart. Know thy enemy. This equaled completely A-B conversations. 

Amidst their squabbling, Hermione couldn't help but notice the huge difference between the two of them. There he was, looking immaculate with his finely tailored, camel-colored long overcoat, his pristine Italian suit, his cashmere scarf and his genuine black leather gloves, while she was making due with a musty tweed jacket and cotton/polyester scarf-glove set she bought at some bargain-bin store. She glowered enviously.

Don't think she didn't notice the stares she received in the fancy restaurant. Judging, incredulous eyes that roared, how dare you enter this place, you don't belong here, you're only allowed in because of **_him_**. She heaved a sigh, squashing those age old emotions down to the pit of her stomach. She watched Malfoy stealthily over the top of her menu. He seemed not to notice the attention, both good and bad, they were garnering, but she knew better. There was no way he hasn't noticed. He was a soldier, just like her. He was just better at hiding it than her it seemed.

_Or maybe he doesn't care, since it's favorable in his position_, she thought nastily.

"Don't get the luncheon special, it has bits of peas in it," he said distractedly, turning the page of his menu. That broke her train of thought.

Oh. Disgusting peas. They were gross.

"Too bad, the lamb sounded good too," she said mournfully. She scanned the menu, panicking slightly that there were no prices next to the items. Hermione hoped she had enough money to spot for this. But once she got back to the office, she would immediately bill it to the Ministry. She grinned. Nothing was better than a free me –

Shite, forgot that Malfoy was still in Funds.

"This is a business venture, right?" she asked quickly, looking around quickly for an easy escape route.

"Don't be daft," he mumbled, having difficulty decided which wine to drink. "We could have done this back at the Ministry, but **some**one here was throwing a childish fit over something crucial."

If he wasn't always this stingy with money, Hermione would've worked up enough anger to create a ruckus. Instead, she was merely annoyed. Cheap prick.

"May I take your order?" the waiter asked politely to Draco, pointedly ignoring Hermione.

"Yes, I'll have the luncheon special and a glass of Port," Draco said casually, acting like a regular patron. Probably was.

"And….the lady?" he asked hesitantly. Merlin, even the waiters looked down on her.

"I'll have the chicken primavera, with some lemon water please," she said dryly. She turned to Malfoy, daring him with her eyes to mock her for her cheaply ordered drink.

He tactfully ignored it.

The rest of the meal went on without a hitch; when the food came there were a few remarks about it but otherwise a companionable silence fell. They blazed through the FISA reports efficiently, with only a few disagreements here and there.

The waiter handed a leather-bound check to Draco, practically fawning over the man. As he was scrutinizing the check, Hermione counted her money. She was getting impatient when he was obviously taking his sweet time perusing over it. To her surprise, Malfoy merely nodded and handed the check back to the waiter, who bowed and left. He pushed his seat back as he stood up, tightening his tie.

"Wait wait wait, what was that?" Hermione asked, confused as hell.

He gave her a look that made her feel stupid. "Malfoys don't pay per meal like commoners. It's gathered on a tab and I pay on a basis."

Well, how was she to know, not like she went to places with the upper-crust on a daily basis. "Well, pardon me for my ignorance," she retorted sarcastically. "How much do I owe you?"

Another one of those you-are-stupid glances. "What do you take me for, Granger? I'm not desperate as to count change with you."

He walked over to behind where she was sitting and pulled back her chair. She stood up automatically and they both began walking towards the exit. One would think having a man behaving with such good etiquette would be very flattering, but Hermione knew better. However, for the record, she **was** fooled the first time; she was both confused and a bit flattered the first time he held open a door for her. Then she realized such chivalry was ingrained in him as much as his snobbery. It was pure instinct with no thought behind it, so she paid it no mind either. But she was rather surprised he paid for her. That was new, but then again, they never ate together either.

Again, the whispers followed them. The younger women were bolder, talking outright. With each step Hermione could feel her face grower hotter, her ire growing. It was the last straw when one particularly beautiful blonde stopped Draco at her table, exclaiming, "Draco Malfoy, what a coincidence to see you here today! I was just talking to my girl friend about you!"

And of course, out came the Malfoy charm. Hermione was hugely tempted to just keep going without him as he flirted with her. It was pretty awkward just standing there like a useless accessory. But pride made her plant her feet firm – she would ride this out and leave with dignity.

". . . I'm serious darling, seek me out anytime and I'll be your date," the woman said softly, yet loud enough for Hermione to hear. She purposely looked at her when she added, "It must be embarrassing to eat in gritted her teeth, ready to bark at the stupid, vapid chit when Malfoy flashed the blonde a charismatic grin. "Thank you Lani, I'll be sure to hold you to that." He kissed her hand, to which she practically screamed with delight, and quickly resumed his exit. Hermione glared at the smug girl, and stalked out after him.

However, somewhere between the restaurant and the sidewalk outside, the indignation inside her died out. She slowed her pace down and almost lost him as he left the building. Malfoy was leaning against the street corner wall, preparing himself for a fantastic tirade, only to see a defeated looking Hermione coming out the doors. He straightened up, confused.

She was just standing there, suddenly looking very small, unlike the usual larger-than-life fireball. Her head was bowed, hiding her face. For a long time, the both just stood there, facing each other with the cold winter wind howling around them.

Finally, in a small, shaking voice, she asked, "Am I really that _horrid_?" Her voice cracked on the last syllable. Her fists clenched painfully in her pockets, waiting for his answer.

He said nothing.

She looked up, and for the first time, Draco saw her face with all the walls dropped. Her big bambi, chocolate eyes looking at him so openly, her heart-shaped face pale with uncertainty. Her plump lips practically quivering – he was speechless.

He slowly walked up to her, with an absolutely serious expression on his face, utterly unreadable. When he was mere inches from her, he continued to scrutinize her face. Their eyes locked, unable to look away.

_**Such a face.**_

Then, as if on its own accord, his right arm lifted, his knuckles brushing her cheek softly.

The second his hand touched her, whatever trance they were in was broken and he snatched his hand away quickly, as if on fire. They looked at each other incredulously, not being able to make sense of what just happened.

Malfoy responded first, by turning on his heels and marching away. Hermione merely stood there, eyes wide in shock. A few feet down, he stopped, with his back still to her. He then turned to her, his demeanor completely back to normal.

"What's with the weak act, Granger," he drawled deeply, his eye challenging. "Letting a stupid slag get to you with just that? I'd have thought it would've taken more to get you."

His words shook her out of her state, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I – that's not – completely not – "

"Please, spare me," he interrupted. "Let's just get back, I don't feel like standing here in the cold watching you cry yourself into a puddle." He proceeded to turn around again and walk briskly back to the Ministry.

Hermione just stood there, processing what just happened. And then she smiled.

He was…..different than Harry and Ron, that was for sure. In this kind of situation, they would've both respond out of love, but it wouldn't have...comforted her as much Malfoy just did. Whether or not it was intentional, he found her weaknesses and forced her to keep strong on her own. Malfoy responded perfectly, saying exactly what she needed to hear.

She shouldn't care about those people. They shouldn't mean anything to her. She was strong. Undefeatable.

Hermione ran up to him, all the vigor back in her step and matched his pace. He turned his head to her and asked gruffly, "What are you smiling about?"

"I was just thinking about how you're not quite the complete, insolent ponce I thought you were," she replied cheerfully, still smiling.

"What did you just say?" he exclaimed, aghast at her cheek. That was the last thing he expected her to say.

Oh, the look on his face was priceless. And then she laughed.

Today was a day for Draco to see all the different faces of Hermione he had never seen before – faces that were always reserved for others. He can't help but look at her face, how different it was from before. How different it was from her usual scowl reserved just for him.

Her cheeks were rosy and her perfect teeth were exposed, opening to reveal such a genuine, carefree laugh. It was an angelic sound. Draco was mesmerized.

She turned her head to him, her eyes twinkling mischievous. On impulse, she grabbed his right arm with her left. "You should have seen your face!" she said, the laughter still in her voice. "I haven't seen that much shock in you since I slapped you at Hogwarts!"

He blanched and tried to pull his arm away, but she held fast.

"What, don't want to get your coat dirty?" she asked playfully with a hint of challenge, grasping his arm even tighter.

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "If you sully it with your horrid jacket, I will be **forced** to press charges."

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly pristine! And furthermore….."

And their squabbling echoed down the streets. He made no move to retract his arm. He was a gentleman, after all.

* * *

Done done done! YAY! Sorry for the hiatus folks, college life ain't all it's cracked up to be! Procrastination is hell, let me tell you. Anyways, hope you all liked it! I know, things seem pretty fluffy but BELIEVE YOU ME, dark things, sercrety things are about to surface. OooOOoOOh. See if you can catch some of the foreshadowing/clues. It'll be fun, I promise. Hopefully during winter break I'll be able to crank out a few more, but we'll see. Until then, review review review! That's what gets my writing juices going! 


	6. Passing Notes

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 06

Disclaimer: I believe…wait…..waait for it….ah yes. I believe…….Harry Potter and all its characters……do NOT belong to me. Whew. That was a tough one. Almost got it wrong!

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Hermione dreaded her next destination.

"_Is it already that time of the year?"_ she thought morosely. She couldn't think of one person who enjoyed the much hated…..

Mid-yearly review meeting.

_Geh_.

Hermione's mouth twisted unattractively, like she just sucked a sour, rotting lemon. If such a think could ever exist. Just **thinking** about those wretched words made her whole body depressed. Again, if such an affliction could exist where the physical body itself could be depressed.

Sure, there were meetings scattered – no, **_littered_** – throughout the year, but none were as horrid as this meeting. This was the meeting to end all meetings. She could feel one of her famous migraines coming on full force. Who would have thought that after battling evil for peace on earth there were still such…well….**evil** elements in the world. During the War if they had told her this was what she had to look forward to, that this was what they were fighting for…….

Let's just say she would have gone on suicide missions more and strategized in the stronghold complex less.

Because you see, this wasn't just a meeting. Oh no. In meetings you got together to solve things, to work together to get something done, to create and brainstorm.

This….this travesty of a meeting was a **review** meeting. With not weeks' worth, but months' worth of nitpicking, complaining, begging, accusing, flattery, and arguments. She would swear Arthur placed some sort of Time spell in that room – she felt that years have been shaved off her life after she walked out of that room.

She rubbed her temples. "Bear with it, old girl," she muttered to herself. Wasn't it only yesterday when it was the beginning of the semester cycle and Malfoy glided into her department, like some over sugarfied Broadway actor bursting into his main song number?

Speaking of Malfoy……..

Target sighted. He was coming towards her from down the hall. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. He…He……He…..

He had a skip to his step.

A SKIP. No…NO! That can't be right. Preposterous.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, watching…..not really knowing what she was watching.

No…..that IS a skip in his step! Is he…..he's HUMMING! An uplifting ditty in some Major key!

"Granger, close that silly mouth of yours, you look positively ridiculous standing there like you wish to shag me," he practically chirped, walking past her but not before he teasingly flicked her jaw shut with one elegant finger.

Her head slowly, creakily turned to follow his passing form, much akin to a squeaky, rusty robot awakening from many years of dusty slumber.

Why. Why. Why.

"_WHY IS HE SO CHEERFUL?"_ she thought frantically to herself. Her massive brain hastily backtracked and tried to think of any reasons that could make him so happy on such a joyless day. Reasons that all could lead to her demise.

But she couldn't think of any. Anything that could make him happy via her embarrassment meant a negative view on him as well – that was how well he integrated himself into her department. Much to her ire.

Walking stiffly into the meeting room, she numbly sat down at the farthest seat at the end of the long table, away from where most were congregating. Soon, in a matter of minutes, she was certain she could figure Malfoy out. Her shining feature was her intellect, after all.

Was he like this in the past years? She couldn't really remember. True, he was always seated near her, but…… he was mostly professional, if not part malicious, part opportunity-grabbing bastard. She never associated him with the adjective gleeful.

Which he definitely was. If there were ever a person in time that personified gleeful, it would be Malfoy right now. Which, when saying that sentence out loud and knowing him from childhood, was a really weird picture to paint.

And then it dawned on her. And her opinion of him lowered even more.

"_Of course it would be someone like Malfoy to enjoy a review meeting…,"_ she thought, her eyes narrowing as he walked into the room, apparently calmed down.

But now she could see it, the excited glint in his eye, the smirk just waiting to burst from his stupid sensual lips. She never would have noticed such telling signs on him if not for that chance encounter.

How could she have been so blind, how could she not have figured it out? This was his modern-day battleground. Besides winning and sex, he loved the hunt. He loved carefully constructing paths for his opponents to unknowingly take, then play with them for his enjoyment, then squeeze them for everything they're worth. Strategy was the name of his game. Hell, it was this love alone that single-handedly turned from Ron from thinking he was "that scum that I should scrap off the bottom of my shoe then burned with fire then spit on the ashes then find some dog to piss on it" to "you know, he's not that bad of a bloke sometimes."

Boys and their love of chess. Upon Ron's first discovery of Draco's prowess at the game, he practically held him prisoner at the Burrow for two weeks until Ginny had mercy on him and freed him in the middle of the night. In exchange he from then on called her Ginerva instead of She-Weasel. She thought it was a fair trade.

And throw in the opportunity, nay, the **encouragement** to put the heat-lamp on his co-workers and magnify their every fault, their every mistake? It was heaven on Earth for him.

"_This also explains why he was so fervent in pushing for quarterly review meetings these past few years_," she mused to herself. She chewed on her lip in concentration. She quickly shook herself out of her assessment, for in the corner of her eye one Draco Malfoy was slowly approaching her.

"_Don't come this way don't come this way don't come this way don't you dare sit next to me go away go away stop stop stop you sodding bastard NO you –" _she thought wildly.

If she had to sit through the upcoming long hours near someone in such a euphoric state it would make her impending, possible migraine into a guaranteed one.

He sat directly across from her.

"I thought I gave you ample time to get over me and my charming ways, but I gather from your expression it was not long enough," his deep voice tinged with amusement.

And she was hit with the bright, sharp pains of the king of headaches. She groaned and dropped her head onto the table.

Malfoy's firm, cool hand stroked her hair in a distracted, soothing manner. He looked around the room and breathed in deeply.

"Have you ever not loved life?" he asked cheerfully.

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"Have I died? Is it over yet?" she asked weakly, barely able to drop her body into the uncomfortable chair provided on the upper level canteen.

"Hush, you have to reign in your flair for dramatics," Draco chided her gently, picking up the daily menu on the table.

She suppressed the urge to shriek and tear out her hair in frustration.

"Why are you still in front of me! Even during our one break I have to sit by you? Ridiculousness!" she snarled at him, pointing her finger invasively in front of his face.

He casually pushed her hand to the side with the back of his hand, not even looking up from the menu.

"Manners, Granger. Now look, you're causing a scene."

She blushed after noticing many stares and reluctantly retracted her hand. However, her guard remained firmly up.

"If I had the strength to leave, I would," she managed to grit out, unable to go down without a fight.

"Of course, darling," he said coolly, the corner of his mouth lifting. Most likely from the absurdity of the idea of him calling her any kind of pet name.

"And don't think I didn't notice you snickering when Fendelson was close to tears. Your doing, might I add."

He made some sort of non-committal grunt in agreement.

"And stop passing me those inappropriate notes. It's distracting."

"Please, who was the one who was nearly caught when you sent that insanely accurate doodle of Cornwall when he's drunk at the Christmas parties?"

"Cackling does cause for attention, Malfoy."

"Touché."

A pause. She reddened. "And I only participated in that stupid exchange of notes because if I didn't do something with my hands while they droned on and on I would've gone mad!"

"Naturally," he said, looking at her with wide eyes. His gray eyes were nearly liquid clear with mock innocence. "I couldn't possible fathom the straight-laced Granger to exchange hilarious illustrations, mean-spirited comments, and often head-scratchingly difficult Hang-Man puzzles for the sake of fun."

"Shove off," she muttered, burying her head behind the menu.

He shrugged, not at all affected by her prickly attitude. He'd coax the twinkling eyed minx out of her again later when they went back into the meeting.

"Lunch Special B," he said clearly to the menu. Instantly, a serving tray containing thick soup and beef tri-tips appeared in front of him. He waited courteously for her to order, as manners dictated.

"Hot lemon tea," she said tiredly. With the migraine she was sporting, there was no way she could handle real food.

"Migraine?" he asked, his tone indicating he already knew the answer.

"Every year," she replied, stirring in the lemon into the red tea.

"And every year you treat it the same way, probably to no avail," he scoffed. "Getting some food into your system will give you the energy to fight it off."

"Unless you want to pick half-digested food bits off your ridiculously priced pants, I advise against it," she countered, her eyes squinting at the pounding in her head. She quickly sipped her tea.

"Look, just – hot porridge with sweet cream and berries, with a side of fried eggs – try to have some of this and see how you feel," he ordered. The steaming bowl appeared in front of him and he graciously poured the cream, shoving the entire tray towards her.

She glanced wearily between the tray and his face, gauging the practicality of eating versus taking a Malfoy's advise. Her nose wrinkled at his choice of nourishments.

"Just try the damn food," he growled, finally fed up. "I'm starving but I simply cannot begin eating unless you do so just hurry the hell up."

Motivated not by any affection towards him but rather an inherent sense of courtesy did Hermione find her hand moving towards the tray. With the sigh of frustration he picked up his fork and began gracefully cutting his meat.

Both were silent during the lunch; Hermione believing that talking would do more damage to her pain, Draco feeling comfortable in their silence. Sometime during the meal, with her disliking egg yolk, Hermione carefully cut them out with her fork and pushed them towards Draco onto the plate. Without looking up, he reached over with his fork and speared them onto his own plate.

He then proceeded to move his little pile of corn onto her plate, which she began immediately eating, one kernel at a time. She knew he knew she was probably the only one who could enjoy eating corn so much. It was the obsessive-compulsive in her. Something about eating a produce so methodically was very appealing to her. She would eat it automatically if placed in front of her. Hermione remembered on one bored, rainy afternoon back in their days of Head boy, Head girl, she had waxed poetically on the subject of eating corn to the point where he literally jumped out the window to escape her concluding points. To punish him for his bad manners she stubbornly waited in their common room until he stealthily returned a few hours later, then launched into a two-hour lecture on the benefits of corn.

Upon finish the corn and her bowl of porridge, she found her stomach to be stronger than she had first thought. She proceeded to stab a piece of beef off his plate, without any sign of shyness, about the same time he reached over and plucked a stray berry from her bowl.

A co-worker watched their seamless give-take exchange of food fascinating and at the same time, mystifying. He was under the impression the two disliked each other immensely. But without even waiting for cues from one another, the two moved like a flawless single unit. He was about to come to the conclusion the two were actually friends when…..

"Really, Granger? 'I wish her face was infested with barnacles'? That was your Hangman riddle? Who in the world wishes for barnacles to appear on a face?" Draco suddenly exclaimed, as if attempting to hold in his indignity this whole time but failing horribly.

"You're just miffed you didn't get that one right," Hermione said snootily, feeling a bit better after the food. "It's a perfectly fine wish, very imaginative."

"Would barnacles even stick to human flesh? It's illogical!" he countered.

"Who cares if it's illogical – even though it's not! It's a curse! It doesn't **have** to make sense!"

"There has to be standards! I won't allow you to ruin the integrity of Hang-Man –"

"You won't let ME ruin the integrity of some childish game? You got a lot of nerve putting on that kind of air – "

"Oh, and what kind of air would that be?"

"Stop interrupting me and you might find out, you useless excuse for a –"

"Could you two please stop before the rest of the Ministry comes to witness this?" an amused voice queried from behind Hermione.

She could recognize that smooth, slightly gravelly voice any day.

"HARRY!" she exclaimed happily, turning around in her chair to see him. She threw up her arms childishly, impatiently waiting for her hug.

With a deep chuckle, he complied, picking up her small frame and twirled her around.

"Och, Harry, put me down," she said woozily, not quite yet fully cured of her migraine.

"Sorry "Mione, dizzy?" he asked, gently setting her back into her seat. Draco dryly cleared his throat.

"Malfoy," Harry said stiffly, tensing slightly.

"Good to see you too, Scar-Head," Draco replied with a smirk. A secretary passing by, not quite knowing the trio's long past together, gasped at Draco's audacity to the Famous Harry Potter. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Still not getting the recognition you think you deserve, huh?" Harry asked glibly.

Draco sneered. "Push off."

Hermione stood up, putting herself between them. While her relationship with Malfoy wasn't lovey-dovey, they could at least get along civilly when needed and their guard was down. But Harry and Draco…….there was a lot of bad blood between them, even after all they went through together. Some things just can't be fully buried. Time for a little damage control.

"Harry, what are you doing here? And today of all days, it's," her voice drops to a whisper, "_review meeting day_."

"Yeah, I know, thought I'd drop by to see what I was missing," he said cheekily, knowing full well he would have been damn unhappy working for the Ministry, even though they had begged him to join them after the War.

"You think you had better ways of enjoying your hols," Hermione muttered, jealous he played in seasons and was currently enjoying a full 4 months of freedom. Damn professional Quidditch players.

"Seriously though, I'm here to escort you out of here after the meeting. We're meeting up with Ron, Lav and anybody else that cares to join us at the Yellow Moon," Harry replied.

The Yellow Moon was a recent trendy hotspot that served terrific drinks and had a nice after-work atmosphere.

"Please tell me Lavender isn't going to drag me into the shop to have me fitted for dresses again," Hermione moaned, remember how zealous Lavender Potter can get when outfitting her less-than-savvy friend for the upcoming ball. "Because I'm not going to the ball this year."

"You say that every year," he said dismissively. Now come on, let me use your phone – I need to call Molly to check up on James."

"How is your son anyways? I see you've survived his Terrible-Twosies," she said with a grin, thinking fondly of that bundle of energy.

"Twosies is a breeze, what you've got to watch out for is the Threesies….."

The two chattered on amicably as they headed towards her office, lost in their own little world. Seeing as how her back was turned, she couldn't have seen the way Draco's eyes smoldered as he watched the two walk out together. As they turned out of sight, he quickly turned his head, as if tearing his eyes off them. With a grimace, he made his way back to the meeting room.

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Diary Entry No. 52, Vol. V

Was it only yesterday that we were all in our jumpers and escaping trolls at Hogwarts? Was it only yesterday my main concern was not only to make sure Harry and Ron would make it out alive, but also to make sure their souls wouldn't get sucked into the black abyss of war? Was it only yesterday I attended Harry and Lav's wedding as the maid of honor?

How time flies by us. And how time stands still for some of us. Sometimes I feel as though I'm still stuck somewhere in the past. Not sure when though.

Looking at everybody's content faces makes it all worth it. But it makes me wonder why it feels like a part of me is anchored in the past. I feel like there's going to be a point in life where I can't move on until I remove it, but I don't know how. I don't even understand this feeling, let alone know how to fix it. Something…..somehow…..

Sometimes I don't think I've been Purged properly. I still get these….flashes of emotions. Bits of memories, sometimes, during dreams. I wonder if anybody else has this. Maybe I should go to the WWW sometime. Get myself sorted out.

I think Malfoy should go too. I think he's just as affected, if not more, as me. But then again, who knows, with that man.

What am I saying? I don't even know what I'm saying…..

The meeting, long as it was, finally adjourned. Most slowly poured out of there, like oozing sludge. They really got a beating today, mostly from Malfoy. His reconnaissance was amazing. Such detailed reports about them. Most egos were crushed today.

When everybody filed out, Harry went up to Arthur, glancing back sympathetically at them. "Hullo, Arthur. Good times, I gather?"

Arthur shook his head, smiling slightly. "All I have to say is that your generation is a frightening bunch. With Draco Malfoy's lack of empathy and Hermione's obsessive personality…..I mean, we'll all have a promising future, but at what price, my lad?"

Harry laughed at that. "I think if Hermione heard that she's partnered up with Malfoy for that I don't think she'd be very pleased at all. Where is she anyway?"

"She was the first to run out of here – no sooner had the word 'adjourned' fell off my lips and she already left a smoke trail behind her."

"'Mione did say she had one of her headaches today. She's probably at the lounge – she loves that squishy sofa there," Harry mused.

Before the Boy-Who-Lived could even step foot in the lounge, his pathway was blocked by a couple of angry looking women. Their perfectly made-up eyes were narrowed in agitation.

"You ladies do realize that by merely hunching your backs you're not really making yourself any less visible?" he offered good-naturedly.

They both turned to him with a start, surprised that they were discovered. The shorter one's face, a blonde, quickly turned from a sneer to that of pleasant surprise.

"Oh Merlin, THE Harry Potter! I can't believe I'm actually next to you!" she squealed softly, not wanting to be discovered.

The brunette was going to continue the line of flattery when a moan from the lounge focused their attention back to it. Before Harry could open his mouth to query, the taller girl quickly supplied him an explanation, all whilst never taking her eyes off the offending site.

"It's that Hermione Granger and….and….Draco Malfoy!"

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his face. "Wh…at?" he managed to garble, attempting to force his body to move, to interfere!

"Oh yes, they've been at it all day – like in the canteen today. I'll never know why he even looks her way, let alone…" the blonde started, then realized Harry was gone. It was amazing really – it was like he disappeared in a blink of an eye.

Having no idea what to feel at the moment, Harry let his body naturally take control and found himself practically running into the room. In front of him was his Hermione, currently bracing herself against Malfoy, who was behind her on the sofa. Granted their legs were off to different sides, but it still was surprisingly intimate, especially knowing their history.

"Why have you not marketed your hands?" Hermione managed to rasp, utter putty in her rival's nimble extremities.

"I find putting a price on them is cheapening," he retorted back, never stopping his firm assault on her temples. "You know, it'd be even more enjoyable if you'd just put your head in my lap –"

"I already told you there's no way this head is going near that lap," she interrupted, then mewed as he hit a particular spot.

He chuckled. "Who knew you could make such a sound, Granger."

And then, Harry **_swore_**, Malfoy looked up at him. Looked him straight in the eye. **_Straight_**. And he gave the most gloating smile he had ever seen on anyone. Harry blinked, so confused was he at this whole situation. As soon as he did, Malfoy's attention was back on Hermione, as if he had no idea Harry was even in the room. Did he imagine it?

No time for that now!

"She won't be making any more sounds as far as I'm concerned!" Harry heatedly declared, practically ripping Hermione away from him.

Hermione was so shocked at the sudden change of position she nearly tumbled to the floor, had Harry not tightened his grip on her shoulders and used his body to brace her.

"Harry!" she nearly squealed.

Harry's grip on her shoulders became even more intense. Though Draco's eyes flashed with annoyance – whether or not it was directed at Harry or at the fact that Hermione was taken from his arms he didn't know – he casually smiled.

"Salutations, gracious Leader," he gave a mock salute. "I see Quidditch hasn't made you soft."

Harry's brain was still catching up with events and he found he couldn't begin to form words. There was something…..something familiar about this. This situation. This anger he was feeling. And something new…. he felt…anxious. Scared?

"Harry?" Hermione softly said to him. "You're hurting me."

He quickly let go, as if she was burning him. "Jesus, I'm sorry 'Mione! I just.."

"It's okay," she said quickly, eyeing Draco nervously.

How did she end up, yet again, in the same room as Draco despite the fact that everybody was dismissed and could go home? How did him manage to talk her into letting him massage her, of all things? Why did he even want to in the first place?

Her memory was fuzzy. She just remembered Kent was going on and on and being defensive and repeating himself and not even making a very good argument and her migraine just pounded into her head like a jackhammer. Hermione vaguely remembered stumbling out of the room and then…..and then…..?

Forget it, worry about that later. Just focus on getting those two separated.

"Come on, let's go," she said a little louder than she would have normally. Harry still wouldn't take his eyes off Draco. Hermione rubbed his shoulder and upper arm, hoping to relax his tense muscles.

"Harry, come on," she repeated. "I haven't seen Gin in ages, I'm dying for some female company."

That seemed to shake him out of it and he looked down on her, finally focused. "Yeah, sorry."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly glanced back at Draco, who currently was looking at them with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Thanks Malfoy," she said graciously. She figured a little courtesy couldn't hurt the situation. "I owe you one."

"You can count on that, love," he drawled, finally relaxing and plopped back down onto the couch.

For some reason, her face burned as Harry escorted her out, giving a final glare towards Draco direction. Draco winked.

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Sorry I haven't updated in forever! But now that I graduated, I think I'll have a lot more free time, thanks to me…being a bum. In any case, I've been having a lack of motivation lately, but after stumbling upon a couple of well-written fanfics I got my inspiration back and hope you all like this short chapter.

I have a general plan in mind of how I want this story to go, with some twists and turns along the way. I've been carefully dropping clues and hints, hopefully you guys can catch them – once all is revealed, I hope you can reread the story with new understanding and a newfound appreciation!

I also hope I'm keeping in character. Although obviously they ARE a bit OOC I think it's necessary considering the context of the universe I'm creating for them.

**BIG NOTICE** Before I forget, you should all know I'm drastically changing the storyline of the Harry Potter books, so consider this fic a bit AU-ish. Since the actual story thus far makes it seem that the gang won't be having a normal 7th year, I wish to change this (I think for Hermione to be HG and Draco HB with the relationship I want, certain things need to be altered). THUS: Draco Malfoy doesn't attempt to take Dumbledore's life until AFTER they graduate. I'll try to go more into detail in my fic, but be warned – this fic doesn't follow the actual Harry Potter books to the T.

So yeah, Please tell me what you think! What you think of my fic, what you think the big surprise(s) is, etc etc! I need feedback because I've never written before and I want to improve and learn along the way! Thanks all!


	7. Of Dreams

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 07

Disclaimer: I would like to meet that ONE person, upon my lies of saying I own Harry Potter, who would actually believe me and become aghast with rage. Who would scream and rant and curse and threaten to sue me if I didn't cease immediately and apologize to the true owner/creator of Harry Potter. And then I would laugh. But not before crying over the stupidity that humanity is capable of creating. So yeah. What do you think? Do you think I own Harry Potter? You tell me.

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Both Harry and Hermione were silent as the sat in the elaborate carriage – courtesy of a Quidditch player's Galleon – heading toward the White Light District. The complete opposite of the Red Light District where sex and depravity was abound, the White Light District was a high-class area where only the best and trendiest restaurants, stores, and other entertainment facilities were present.

It was a somewhat awkward silence, as both mulled over what had just occurred. Had she really allowed THE Draco Malfoy, her sworn nemesis, to massage her temples? Had Harry really felt what he did when he saw the two together?

Just seeing the two together had made his blood run cold, but he had no idea why that would be. Thinking about it logically, he shouldn't have felt that way. Despite his ill feelings towards him, Harry didn't think of Draco as dangerous, as someone Hermione should avoid contact with at all times. He knew Hermione, more than all of them, was capable of handling him. So why? Why did he feel the urge to beat Draco and drag Hermione off to a safe place?

And that look.

Was it Harry's imagination that Malfoy looked at him with such a look on his face? Mocking, triumphant, **_depraved_**. It all happened so fast.

Harry shook himself. No, there was no way. Malfoy and Hermione had so much history behind them there was no way……. No way Malfoy considered Hermione even remotely…… No…

He cleared his throat, which startled Hermione a little. "You two seemed awfully chummy in that lounge." Might as well make things clear one and for all.

Hermione had the grace to blush. "Yes, it's bizarre now that I think about it," she muttered, absently rubbing her forehead. Surprisingly, her migraine was gone. "I must have just been so out it I had no idea what was really going on." That sounded weak, even to her.

Harry gave her a doubtful look. "Since when have you two even been on civil terms? This is news to me."

"Well, we have been closely working together for the past six months," she replied. "It's hard to explain Harry. I feel like we're so close sometimes that I know exactly what he's thinking. Other times I feel like I could just strangle him."

"So you're saying you're actually friends with him?" he asked incredulously. Harry imagined the two skipping hand-in-hand on a grassy slope somewhere with rainbows twinkling in the background. He gagged a little.

Hermione snorted. "Please, don't be so daft. After what, seven years at Hogwarts, five years of war, then five years at the Ministry, if I didn't know a lot about him, then I'd be worried. It's only natural. Not like I enjoy the slimy git's company."

He wasn't sure he was entirely convinced. "If you say so, 'Mione."

She sighed, making herself more comfortable and snuggled against his well-toned arm. "I do."

Harry pressed his cheek on top of her curly head, breathing in her scent – the scent of books and jasmine. "I've missed you."

Hermione chuckled. "Probably not as much as Mrs. Potter. Did she attack you as you walked through the front door?"

"No, this year she managed to tackle me into a carriage before I even saw the front gate and whisked us off to some remote bed-and-breakfast."

Hermione laughed outright at this. "I take back every time I thought of her as some wilting, simpering girl. Lav can be stronger than a gorilla and twice as vengeful."

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"About time the two of you got here!" Ron exclaimed. "If I knew taking a carriage would take this long, I would have just gone along with you."

"Instead you what, brother, decided to actually finish your work for once?" Ginny teased before getting up to embrace Hermione. They exchanged kisses. "How are you holding up in the labs? I heard about the Pinkiness. Awful stuff, that. Sometimes I hear Ron cry at night."

"I do not!"

Hermione laughed. Ginny was as funny as she was beautiful. Her long, shining locks of red hair attracted men from all over; her vibrant personality was what made them all fight over her.

"You're going to have to fill me in on that particular bit Gin, I was on holiday when that happened."

"Oh yes, how was that? Sorry we couldn't give you a proper time darling, we just had so many orders to fill..," Lavender trailed off guiltily. Harry pecked her on the cheek and sat down next to her, with his arm around her shoulder. Lavender Brown-Potter had gotten even more gorgeous as she grew older. Her dirty blonde hair matched her slightly tanned skin perfectly; always immaculately dressed, always poised.

"Don't worry about it Lav. Things came up and I had to go back to work in any case."

"So you have to tell us all about working with Draco! I imagined many a hijinks occurred," Ginny exclaimed. Though Draco has been the epitome of a gentleman to her ever since his escape from The Burrow, she still enjoyed a good bashing.

"Let's not get into that," Hermione interjected nervously, eyeing Harry who wore a blank expression. "I still can't believe I'm sitting at THE Yellow Moon. Is there no place that doesn't kiss the ground you walk on, Harry Potter?"

Ron guffawed and Harry elbowed him roughly. "Don't make me sound like some namby-pamby celeb, 'Mione. I only go to these places now because if I go to our regular spots, I get mobbed by too many fans."

"It's true – high scaled places like this know how to back off and give him space to breathe," Lavender agreed. "You don't know how many girls try to get a piece of his shirt or how many men try to talk to him about Quidditch."

"Great season by the way, mate," Ron said, amidst groans from the ladies. Not another Quidditch-lead conversation. "The way you flew against the Irish – pure genius."

"Did you see the move I used when I needed to go back 'round to get the Snitch?"

"Ooh where you did that – "

"Yes! Remember when I was over last year and – "

"HAH with Fred, right, when we – "

"And then you – "

"With that twist that was bloody brilliant – "

"And then he –"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"ENOUGH!" Ginny roared. The two managed to look abashed. "We haven't gotten together in ages and I'll be damned if we have to sit through another dinner about Quidditch. At least finished your sentences so the rest of us can follow, for Merlin's sake!"

"Sorry Gin," they both mumbled. They shot each other a sly glance. They'd finish their conversation later.

"Well, that's much better," Lavender breathed as their cocktails and ales arrived. The conversation was slowly turning to work-related topics. "You simply must come over soon Hermione, this year I swear I won't let you escape!"

Hermione groaned. "Please Lavender, I've told you a hundred times, I feel silly in those beautiful dresses. Besides, I'm going to Prague this year."

Everyone at the table stopped. "**_Prague?_**"

"Yes, Prague – close that mouth Ron – they're having a wonderful exhibition and I should go…." she trailed off. Obviously she lost them at "exhibition."

"But Hermione, you MUST go!" Ginny nearly wailed. "This year I've sworn to myself to find the love of my life at the Gala and I need you there for support!"

"Wait a minute, what!" Ron snapped, turning to face his sister properly. "All the men that go there are slick, lying bastards that hope to pick up girls half their age!"

"Well, that may be true for some…" Ginny said softly, before quickly picking up her steam again. "But there MUST be some rich debutante just waiting for his red-haired goddess!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile indulgently as the two squabbled. It must be nice to have siblings. She caught Harry's eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing. Truth be told, when things didn't work out right with him and Ginny, she was worried his ties to the Weasleys would be strained and he would loose the big family he always should have had. Thankfully, he was still considered a son and brother to them, a fact that made Hermione extremely happy.

"Tell him Hermione!" Ginny pleaded. Uh-oh, she was getting dragged into this. "Tell him how awfully lonely it is to work at St. Mungos! All those lonely hours of working with the disabled and slow-healing…. there's just no way I can meet Mr. Right there!"

It was true. As a Physical Healer, much like a muggle physical therapist, Ginny worked with patients who have been healed as much as magic would allow, and it was up to their bodies to do the rest. The hot-tempered Weasley was surprisingly adept at helping patients through the long, grueling months of healing. It was sometimes a depressing job, as some never healed completely and were forced to live life as a disabled.

"Er, well, Gin is a grown woman and ah," Hermione stuttered, not sure of what to say. "I'm sure she'll find some nice bloke that uh….you know….um.."

"See! Hermione will be there to help me out – you know she's a good judge of character," Ginny said triumphantly.

"Hey, hold on, I never said I'd – " Hermione gave up. When Gin got worked up like this, there was no stopping her imagination. She'd sort it all out later, for now, let her believe whatever she wanted.

Dinner went by smoothly, with the conversation flowing easily as could only be done by close friends who've been through thick and thin together. As they were chattering about this and that, Ginny leaned near Hermione and whispered, "Oh, and thank you again for the donation. It really helped that wing out."

Hermione smiled sadly. Softly, she replied, "Don't mention it."

Persistent, Ginny continued, "Are you sure though? Each year you seem to be giving more."

Her friend merely shrugged and continued eating. Harry and Ron were aware of their conversation and grew quiet.

Lavender noticed a sudden change in attitude and her eyes furrowed in concern. To help clear the air she coughed gently, getting their attention, then with a wide smile she turned to Ron. "So tell me, dear Ron, how is your quest for the right woman? Last I heard the bird you were seeing wasn't up to par."

Ron flushed the famous Weasley blush. Everybody's attention was suddenly on him, with impish smiles abound. "Wha – stop that, stop smiling," he muttered. "She was too clingy and she had the nerve to say she didn't like large families. So that was that."

They all nodded, understandingly. Big families were very important to him and it didn't matter if he was dating the most gorgeous witch in the world – if she didn't want to make lots of babies, it was over.

"Well, welcome back to the world of the singles, big brother," Ginny announced, playfully throwing her arm over his shoulders. He vainly tried to remove it but to no avail. "Current population, me, you, and Hermione."

"Thanks Gin," Hermione said dryly. As if she needed another reminder of her sad love life.

"I heard from the grapevine 'Mione's getting pretty frisky with a certain blonde wanker," Ron said snarkily, knowing in his heart there was no way his Hermione would touch that snake with a ten-meter pole. Unless it was to hit him. The thought of her beating Malfoy with her delicate knuckles made him grin.

"Ugh, PLEASE Ron, I'm trying to have dessert," Hermione groaned. Why does he have to pop up into every conversation? At her disgust Ron couldn't help but goad her more.

"But Hermione, talk around the office has it that the two of you even eat lunch together sometimes. Wasn't it you who said you'd only eat lunch, the most sacred part of the day, with good company?"

"Wasn't it you who also said you'd get him kicked out of my department before my hols were over?" she snapped back, earning a huge laugh from Harry. "Tell me Ronald Weasley, who exactly is still there?"

Ron flushed at this. "That's not fair, the Ministry – "

"Give it a rest Ron," Harry interjected. "You're only going to give her more fodder."

The three continued their banter as Ginny and Lavender looked on with amusement with a hint of envy. The Impenetrable-Trio, they were known as. Ginny remembered always being envious of the three and Lavender at one point was openly jealous of their closeness. But both began to see the brilliance and beauty of their friendship and learned that it came part-and-parcel with them. To know them was to love them, after all.

Over time, they had learned to accept that it was inevitable that at times they would feel left out. It was mostly thanks to Hermione and her consideration that the two felt as welcomed as they did. She always tried to make them apart of their world as much as possible. Lavender remembered once Hermione physically removed herself from the equation just so she could feel more included. It didn't hurt that she also gave her two boys an earful on manners and feelings before the outing as well.

Ginny and Lavender looked at each other and shrugged. "To happiness," Gin said with a smile. Lav grinned back and clinked her martini glass with hers.

"To happiness."

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Midnight at Hermione's tiny flat was not such a happy occasion. Dark, inky fog began to invade her thoughts and dreams. Tossing and turning, her body began living out her nightmares. She felt hands running down, around, all over her. The hands were firm. They were hot. They were cold. They were sweaty. They were rough.

Her dream – no her nightmare – was confusing and discombobulated. Scenes changed quickly from one to another. Suddenly, she was lying down on a bed in a darkened room. The door was slightly ajar, a sickly yellow light shining through. She felt cold, despite the rich, satiny sheets. Her heart was pounding, like was waiting for something bad to happen.

Like this has happened before.

She looked back at the door and her heart began beating faster. There she saw a vague outline – a dark figure looking in. She opened her mouth to scream but no words came out.

She was somewhere else, she was on the floor. The carpet was thin and scratchy. The ground was hard, it hurt her joints. She was blindfolded, some sort of cotton material. A large hand suddenly wove itself into her thick hair, pulling her head back roughly. The voice was low, rough with emotion. Dark. Sinister. She could feel hot lips near her ear. It growled. It spoke. It commanded.

**_You will never leave me. Even in death you won't be able to escape me._**

_**Don't cry.**_

_**Don't cry.**_

_**Don't leave me. Ever.**_

She could finally see. A crumbling building. People shouting, blocks of walls falling, the hiss and sizzle of cooling curses. The heat and explosions of new ones. Her legs began to move on their own as she looked around in horror. She was running through the winding hallways, unsure of where she was – it all looked the same. The explosions grew larger, the sounds deafening. No matter which direction she ran, it seemed she was getting closer and closer to the battlefield.

Finally, she stood still. She didn't know what to do. If she didn't do something soon – but what dammit, what? – she would die. She could feel it in her bones. A voice shouted out to her amidst the cacophony.

_**Kill them! What's wrong with you? Lift your wand and kill them all!**_

_**KILL THEM.**_

Hermione woke up gasping for air. Her body propelled itself upwards and she nearly tumbled out of her twin-sized bed. She couldn't breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Her breath was ragged and wet.

She began to shake. What was that. A nightmare? A memory? Where did the memories end and the nightmare begin? What if they were the same thing. She started to rock back and forth on her tiny bed, her arms over her head, cradling it. A sob escaped her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was past her. That's why she……that's why she agreed to….. So why?

"Help me," she whispered, not knowing to whom she was pleading to. The darkness swallowed her words. Could anybody even hear her?

"_Help me_."

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"I **curse** you, early mornings. Why do you exist," Hermione grumbled.

"If you're going to begin another of your cursing binges, might you add onto your list: devilish moochers of company means?" Ron asked distractedly, furiously scratching his quill on a long roll of parchment paper.

If one wanted to fight crime and do all that sleuthing goodness without the danger of being cursed, there was no better department to be in than the in Internal Affairs, Corruption Division – one that Ron was currently heading. He was in the middle of tracking down 3 (as of now) unnamed individuals that were leaking company funds into their personal accounts.

As he was writing down his latest findings that morning, Hermione was taking a break on his couch in his personal office. Not a stranger to his couch, she made herself at home by unceremoniously flopping down and Accio-ing a snuggly blanket in which to engulf herself in.

"You're usually a morning person luv," Ron observed. "Too much to drink last night?"

Hermione frowned. It was true she was scared witless last night, but she managed to fall back asleep. Somehow, in the daylight, the nightmare didn't see quite so bad anymore. She was able to go about her daily business without a hitch. But yes, she was tired. It was a long night.

"Something like that," she said softly. She shifted to make herself more comfortable, turning her back to Ron. She didn't have to energy to deal with her hyperactive minions, even less energy to deal with Malfoy. So she retreated to her safe haven.

She yawned. "My parents' new house should be finished soon. Do you think you can come to our 'Grand Opening'?"

"Of course," he replied. "It was very nice of you to pay for them to move closer to their workplace, 'Mione."

She merely grunted. He wasn't letting her off the hook so easily.

"It's a very nice house too, isn't it? Two stories and everything. Bet it was hard to find, what with the bad housing economy and all."

"I suppose."

His eyes narrowed. "You know, you didn't have to pay for all of it – aren't both of them still working full time?"

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh. Not this again. "I told you Ron, I **wanted** to. Isn't that what a loving child does for her loving parents? She takes care of them. I don't know why you keep fretting so."

How to put this delicately. In addition to denying herself a higher salary multiple times (she would only take marginal raises and the occasional well earned bonuses), she spent most of her money on, well, people other than herself. She was reduced to living in a tiny flat with a minimal amount for "personal items." She certainly didn't live like a world-renowned Alchemist, much less the head of her department.

"I just worry, 'Mione. Sometimes it seems you barely squeak through the month."

She gave a little chuckle. "I know you mean well, but I'm honestly doing fine. I'm a minimalist, remember? I don't need much to survive – I'm just happy I get to do what I love here."

This time Ron sighed. Could there really be such a loving, giving person? With no strings attached?

"Besides," she added, "It's not like I buy them a house every year. A one time thing, I promise."

Before Ron could reply, a Ministry brown owl tapped at his window. Ron rolled his chair over and opened it, letting the owl feast on a few treats in a bowl on his desk.

"For you," he said, nimbly throwing the card to Hermione. It landed on her lap and she lazily opened it.

"I swear if it's another explosion I'm going to hide here for the rest of the day," she muttered. "Oh."

Hermione turned towards the door. "Sorry about that, come on in."

A muffled "Thank you!" could be heard before the doorknob turned and in walked a living glamour doll. A blossoming 5'6'', the beautiful blonde smiled politely to both Hermione on the couch and a gaping Ron behind the desk.

"Hullo….Mindee Case, correct?" Hermione asked, trying not to flinch as she read the rest of the letter. What is it with the weirdly spelled names these days? And on gorgeous women to boot.

"Yes ma'am," she said brightly. "I recently graduated from the Red Earth Institute in Australia. I'm here to fill the position as the new General Level Assistant?"

Hermione smiled as she stood, offering her hand. They shook. "Yes, your resume is very nice. Only 21 and already in the Ministry? Very impressive."

"Yes, welcome ah..aboard," Ron stammered before remembering his manners and walking up to her to shake her hand as well.

"Yes well, this is Ronald Weasley, Head of the Corruption Division," Hermione introduced, sighing mentally in her head. Oh no, it's going to be one of **_those_** days.

"A pleasure sir," Mindee said pleasantly, her blue eyes sparkling. She turned to Hermione. "I'm told I was to be given a tour of Level 9 before I was to find my spot?"

The Ministry was divided into Levels, the lower levels being underground. Officially there were only 10 levels in the Ministry, but technically there were 11, the 11th being where the Department of Mysteries resided. The Minister obvious was in Level 1, when Ron and Draco's departments were on Level 5. Hermione's was Level 9, being deep underground due to dangerous nature of their experiments. In fact, so dangerous was their department that they shared their Level with only one other department, the Department of Healing. Usually the Ministry tries to cram at least 4 departments into one level.

"Of course, sorry for sending you all the way up here," Hermione said apologetically. To be honest, she was a little surprised at Mindee's nice nature. Most women that good-looking tended to have the worst personalities. When Mindee shook her head, waving off the apology, Hermione's opinion of her grew.

"_Please, please let this girl be genuine_," she thought to herself.

"I'm surprised they sent you up at all, I was sure there would be someone waiting for you down at the labs," Hermione mused.

"Oh, one of the secretaries told me my guide was out running errands. They didn't know what else to do, so they thought that maybe a Head of a department should show me around," Mindee said earnestly.

Hermione tried hard to not show the distaste on her face.

"_Oh dear oh dear,_" she thought miserably. She felt much dread. Showing this beautiful young girl around the office meant the beginning of a new hunt. If this woman wasn't the cause of at least five different cases of office drama, then Hermione was certain the world was malfunctioning.

"Well, no time like the present," she said in hopefully a cheerful voice. "Let's take that tour, shall we?"

While Hermione tried to concentrate on giving Mindee the best tour possible, she couldn't help but notice all the appreciative stares the blonde was getting. Or to be more exact, all the stares Hermione **_wasn't_** getting. She tried not to let this bother her. Besides, who needed good looks when you had a brain that could help all of wizard-kind? Right? …..Right?

"Granger, I've been looking for you all day, where the **_hell_** have you – well hullo there," Malfoy's voice suddenly turned smooth and melodic. Hermione's stomach began to churn.

_Shite_.

That's it, it's over. If Malfoy put her on his radar screen, it was a done deal. Even if by the slightest iota of a chance Mindee deemed him not worthy of her time, Malfoy had the skills, the money, the experience, and the charm to get her out of her pants. From the looks of things, it seems like he doesn't have to bother. Just a few simple words laced with a huge dose of innuendo were enough to turn the poor girl into putty. She was eating right out of his hand – this wouldn't even be a challenge for him.

Hermione sighed as she watched the frankly uncomfortable scene unfolding before her. It was like watching a sex scene in a movie theatre with your parents. It was just something you didn't want to look at. And here she really wanted to respect Mindee too. But judging from the way she was acting around Malfoy, she would be just like the rest.

She didn't want to think this way. She didn't want to lump all the girls together, like they were a simple equation and would follow a set path – they were humans, for God's sake. Humans were known to be unpredictable. However, this was one pattern they all repeated. Unfortunately.

Before, back when they first entered the Ministry and Malfoy began his very obvious questing of women, Hermione was sickened and angry at his behavior. She felt so sorry for the victims. Who wouldn't be, when what seemed to be every week there would be a new girl crying over the bastard.

They would all lament at how much they cared for him but he just dismissed them like servants. They would go on and on and on about how sweet and gentle and suave he was, but then it turned out it was all just a façade – it was how he treated all women, like a reflex mechanism. And even after he gave them the cold shoulder, there were many (no, make that most) that would forgive him at the drop of a hat the second he felt a little bored.

Finally, one day when a close co-worker of hers came crying to her, it was the last straw for Hermione. She literally dragged Draco into her office and began screaming at him, making her disgust for his misogyny known. She continued her increasingly enraging rant until finally, finally, Draco's perfect mask dissolved and he was screaming right back at her.

He raged that he **never**, **ever**, gave any of the women he dated the illusion that they meant more to him than a good time. He told them outright that their relationship would NOT be monogamous nor would it be long term. He thought with those disclaimers, the women would know what they were getting into and act accordingly.

But they don't. Why? He doesn't know why. Oh wait, he does. Because they were lovesick fools. Downright fools. They had all agreed with his terms, thinking they were so mature, but secretly hoped that later their charms and good looks would turn him around. Like they were the ones who would change him. And as time passed, they grew closer and closer to him as he increasingly lost interest. By the time he let them go, they had deluded themselves for so long that they couldn't bear to be parted from him.

So where was he exactly at fault here? What could he have done differently to prevent their misery?

After that fateful day, Hermione began to really look at the girls before the big breakup and realized that Malfoy was right. All of them bragged about how maturely they were taking his behavior, how worldly they were acting when they agreed to such a casual, open relationship. Then they slowly descended to becoming clingy she-devils that could not be separated from him. Hermione entertained thoughts of warning some of them beforehand as well, but decided against it when she realized her advice would fall upon deaf ears. So she left it up to their discretion but knew in the end, the only victor would be Malfoy.

Once, she couldn't help the busybody in her and dutifully warned one of their beautiful co-workers that worked on Level 4 about his indiscriminate ways but she merely waved Hermione off like fly. Later, when Draco tired of her, she came storming into Hermione's office. Never mind Hermione was of a higher status – the woman screeched and yelled about how she must have been jealous of their relationship and somehow sabotaged it. She even screamed that Hermione must have wanted Draco all to herself.

She was so shocked that she just stood there, staring at the woman's mascara-running face until she burst out laughing hysterically. She later had to be dragged out by a few of her minions. She just couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Coming back into reality, Hermione rolled her eyes at the display in front of her. Deep down, though she would never admit it, even under torture, she felt a bit jealous. Not quite at the fact that Malfoy was the one giving the attention, she tried to rationalize to herself, but that it would be nice to have a man treat her like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

Whenever Malfoy looked at her, it was with some sort of contempt, or like he was looking down his perfect nose at her. Like she wasn't worth his full attention. But when he looked at Mindee, or any other woman, it was like he was truly seeing her for who she was. Like she was worth something. Considering he was someone she saw as her equal, her rival, to not have that kind of acknowledgement was a little painful.

"_It's not because I want **that** kind of attention from him_," she sternly told herself.

"Hermione, I see you're showing the new Assistant around," a rich voice came from behind her. "I'm sorry, I sent Wethers out on a few errands – I didn't know you'd be troubled into giving her the tour."

Hermione flushed. "Oh, don't worry about it Alex, it was my pleasure." He was looking even more handsome today than he ever did. Just something about the way he wore his suit and the way he styled his hair…… heaven.

She felt the same flutters in her heart, but she quickly quashed them. "_No matter what I say or do, he won't look at me any differently,_" she thought sadly.

What else was there to do but to give up on him? Return to all that hermity goodness, if she knew what was best for her.

"Alex?" a bell-like voice called out. "I'm sorry darling, this place is just so confusing. I'm afraid I was lost for a bit."

Oh great, could this day get any better? Now Hermione had to face Amelia, Alex's girlfriend. If she didn't feel frumpy at all today, now she felt it full force. Her heart strained.

Now she had to deal with Mindee who was taking up all the attentions of Malfoy, Alex, the one she has been in love with since she came to the Ministry, and Amelia, a constant reminder of what Hermione had to be in order to get the man she so desired.

Hermione was the personification of the fifth wheel.

Isn't this nice. Chatting in the middle of the hall. Surrounding by all these beautiful people. Hermione felt that if she had to smile anymore today, her mouth would fall clean off her mouth.

Gods, it **_hurt_**.

After Alex left with his girlfriend, Hermione thanked and cursed the heavens simultaneously. Before she could quickly make a tactful escape, Malfoy beat her to it and offered to give Mindee the rest of the tour.

As Hermione looked at Malfoy's retreating back, she couldn't help feel somewhat empty. He didn't even look at her. Somehow, she half expected him to…..well……comfort her. Or at least say something. He always had up to this point.

She shook herself. Who cares what he did or didn't do. Obviously his priorities are clear here. Not like she needed anything from him. These kinds of things should be expected, shouldn't it?

Hermione sighed. "_Yeah. Story of my life. Shit and all that_."

She wearily made her way back to the labs. If she was already feeling bad, might as well take her mind off things and work.

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As Mindee was walking away with Draco, she noticed he was suddenly smiling nonstop. When asked why, he answered smoothly, "If not because I get to accompany you for an indefinite amount of time, then for what?"

This made her blush and she not so subtly shook her hair to give it a more tousled, sexy look. To try to play it cool, she tried to bring up a more neutral topic, so that she didn't seem to eager to talk about the one thing she had in mind.

"That Dr. Granger seemed very lovely, didn't she?" she asked innocently. When she didn't get much of a response, she continued, "But it doesn't seem as though she has anybody, poor thing. I wonder if anybody has tried setting her up?"

She finally got a response out of him when he turned his head to look at her, then continued looking onward as they walked down the hall. Scoffing, he replied, "There isn't a man out there for her."

Not seeing the way his eyes darkened, she playfully swatted him on the arm. "Now that's not very nice at all!" she said with a smile. "She's not that hideous."

Draco merely smiled at her, like he was enjoying his own personal joke.

When they reached the end of the hall, Mindee's heart almost burst from her heart when he asked her, "So, what are you plans later tonight?"

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"Just a little bit more…..a little bit more…," she murmured to herself. A few more drops and the first step to that cure would be complete. Just had to concentrate. And not think about Mindee. Or Amelia. Or Alex. Or Malfoy –

**POOMF.**

"Bugger me bugger me bugger me **_bugger me_**!" Hermione ranted, throwing down her beaker in disgust.

"As appealing as that sounds, I'm afraid I'll have to pass," a very amused voice drawled from the doorway. He couldn't have come at a worse time. "And how many would that be today?"

"I thought I told you to stop labeling me as 'the woman of a thousand oops'! I rarely make mistakes!" Hermione ground out, not even wanting to look at him. She viciously began scrubbing the countertop, lest it became stained permanently.

"Of course, that explains why your lab coat is now singed and smoking a nice, healthy green vapor?"

"Oh go shag a tart – oh wait, you're already doing that," she bit out, scrubbing even harder.

"Hilarious. Go ahead and mock my enviable lifestyle, it won't make it any less wonderful," he replied, completely unruffled by her bad mood. In fact, he seemed to feed off of it.

Hermione counted to ten before she got a hold of herself. She felt a bit bad about the tart bit. Mindee wasn't too bad of a girl, as far as the ones Malfoy dates. Her only fault was that she was too damned gullible.

"Look just….treat her nice, yeah?" she said, trying to maintain her calm. She removed her lab coat and wrinkled her nose.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What's with the sudden concern for, and I quote, those silly bints I always spread my disease with?"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. He wanted her opinion? Oh, she'd open the whole dammed floodgate to her opinion. "Because! You always have NO consideration for their feelings – yes, yes I know about your whole 'I never promised them my heart' spiel – and yet for some strange reason, they always come to ME with their Draco issues. ME! What the bloody hell do I have anything to do with your messy affairs? Instead of targeting you, or god forbid, one of the many other silly little bints that you're simultaneously dating, they come after me! Either they think I can get them back into your good graces or more than often, I'm somehow to blame for your lack of humanity."

She took a deep breath. "So in conclusion to this on-the-spot tirade, either treat them feckin' better or leave me out of it. I have better things to do than suffer from the wrath of scorned women I have nothing to do with!"

"_There! Let's see what he has to say to that," _she thought, a bit breathless from her outburst.

Draco merely looked at her blankly. "Did you know that when you actually said my name I got just the tiniest of tingles up my spine?"

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Did you not understand a word I just said!"

"Yes yes yes," he said, waving her off nonchalantly. "Despite your massive ego" – Hermione sputtered – "I rarely mention your name, if at all. I have no idea why they come to you instead of me, but know that I find it terribly amusing every time."

"**GET OUT OF MY LAB YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A MAN!"**

As Hermione grabbed the nearest beaker, Draco quickly exited the lab with a swiftness and grace a gazelle could envy.

The instant the beaker was in the air one of the minions shouted, "NOOoo Dr. Granger!"

When it inevitably hit the lab doors, another explosion was sounded, with purple smoke misting out of the cracks around them.

Malfoy's deep laughter could be heard throughout the level.

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Diary Entry No. 53, Vol. V

Yes, my life is indeed shit, but I have a way to make it all better.

I WILL KILL DRACO MALFOY.

Make no doubt about that. My mistake was getting accustomed to his presence and growing compliant. He is like hideous slow-growing cancer. I should have never gotten used to him.

I must be rid of him before he destroys me.

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Well, this must be the fastest update I've EVER done. And it's all thanks to your wonderful, inspiring reviews! I hope you all liked this chapter, as always. I'm having trouble keeping it light, since the path I've chosen for this fic is actually pretty dark. Oh well, I'll change the labels accordingly when the time comes, I suppose.

I hope I littered more tasteful bits on the mysssstteries and seeecreets of the backbone of this fic. I just have to remind myself when and where and what I put down so I can properly reference it.

Sorry about the whole Ministry Levels bit – I actually don't have the books with me and it's been awhile since I read them, so I actually have no idea how the Ministry is set up. Let's just say they changed infrastructures after all those years. Yeah, why not.

Sorry if the story seems like it's not moving anywhere fast. I tend to like to like the build-up just as much as the actually meaty bits.

Thanks for all your support and I'll see you next time (hopefully soon. Nyyuuu)


	8. Swearing a Storm

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 08

Disclaimer: I KNOW! Since I can't say I own Harry Potter, what if I said I own….Harry Pottar! Or, Hary Potter! OH MY GOD the possibilities!

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Hermione Granger was NOT having a good day.

Scratch that, she was not having a good WEEK.

PERIOD.

Personal problems aside, this GOD. DAMNED. POISON. Would NOT break. It took all of her pride to not dissolve into tears, screaming to the heavens, "Please don't tell me I'm actually dumb! Give me the answer! Gimme! C'mon…..GIMME!"

Oh, it was so hard.

"Nelson. Henderson. Cindy. Andrew. Anything yet?" Hermione bit out curtly. She was furiously flipping through her massive pile of notes, never once looking up.

"Negative."

"Nope."

"I've got nothing."

"Sorry boss."

Hermione let out a long hiss. Blasted evil Dark Wizards. Couldn't work with poisons that already had existing cures. Had to go out of their way to create stupid unbreakable poisons. She could just strangle all of them. And poke them with pointy sticks.

Fire-Fly Franco moaned, hitting his head repeatedly on his workstation. "Fires don't do anything for it! I'm so bored!"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Please, Franco, just work on your reports."

"Dr. Granger, the breakthrough was a bust, I'm afraid," Amanda Cleese ventured timidly from her desk. "It seems adding batwing didn't neutralize the common factors like theory predicted."

Why wasn't she surprised. "Yes well, at least that tells us something," Hermione said, trying to put a positive spin on things. Too bad her voice revealed her inner despair. "If it didn't have a textbook reaction, it could only mean that the minor notes in the poison had to be made from plants, not animals. Johnson, could you please – JOHNSON stop playing with those – PLEASE go to the Library and get the botanical reference books by Willard? I don't want the Sambersons, the footnotes are unreadable."

The problem with geniuses is that they sometimes don't have a firm grasp of reality and consequences. Almost every day Hermione stumbled upon hidden pet projects and had to deal with their constant tendency to be very easily distracted.

"Reginald," she said tiredly, not even looking at the bespectacled wizard next to her. "Put the knife and flower away. YES I SEE THEM. Yes, yes, I KNOW the prospect of having the sharp components of a knife instilled into a flower is a fascinating one, but I don't think now is exactly the time to –"

"It's NEVER the right time for a blade-posy, is it?" he pouted, ready to fight this one tooth-and-nail. "It's always, Reginald, try to break this mod, or or or Reginald, stop trying to feed the poison to your cat or Reginald, it's illegal to use humans as test subjects for your latest weapon of war!"

Oh Merlin no, not the tirades.

"Yeah, Reggie's right!" someone from the back chimed in. "We never have any fun around here!"

"This is a **work** environment," Hermione ground out. "Having fun is NOT a priority."

"Two months three days fourteen hours ten minutes and twenty-six seconds ago you agreed to let us develop our Whirling Vortex patent but are we working on that? NoooOOoo" another grumbled.

"Yeah, and what about getting ourselves a guardian creature for our Dungeon? You promised you promised you promised! It was going to be all oily and big and greasy and pointy and hungry!" one more spoke out amongst the increasing murmurs of discontent. Unfortunately, this sort of behavior was not uncommon. When one got off the track and began a tirade, a mob mentality ensued and soon the whole lab whirled into chaos.

Thankfully, Hermione Granger was clever.

She was always able to control the situation before things turned to mutiny and England sank into ocean (if She was lucky). Today was no exception, except she had no patience to deal with their childish behavior right now.

Sighing, she rolled her eyes as she reached into her drawer. She eyed to lab doors. She mentally counted to three. Before any of her minions could get in another word, suddenly candy was coming down upon them like glorious rain.

"Sour Suckers!"

"Chocolate Frogs!"

"Fruity Mints!"

"Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans!"

"OooOOOH!"

"CandycandycandycandycandycandyCandyCANDYCANDY**CANDY**!"

While they were all scrambling to pick off their precious treats from the floor they didn't notice Hermione dashing madly out of the Dungeon, the doors swinging back and forth from her escape.

Candy, probably their main source of sustenance, would distract them nicely from their discontent and her absence, sooth their ruffled feathers, and give them the sugar jolt needed for concentration.

See, isn't she clever?

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Hermione had to lean against the wall for a bit to get her breath back. Spending time with no one but intellectuals tended to make one very un-athletic.

"_Stupid Ministry and Malfoy in stupid Funds_," she thought sourly. "_Buying so much candy burns such a hole in my pocketbook_."

Feeling better physically, she walked slowly down the hall towards the lifts on the other side of the building. She planned to go check her mailbox and then maybe out to an early lunch. Lord knows she deserved at least that. As she walked past some of the open cubicles, she noticed a small crowd gathering around Mindee's desk. Considering she wasn't hearing any weeping, Hermione figured Malfoy hasn't grown tired of her just yet.

Speaking of Mindee, Hermione had to admit, she was impressed – she lasted this long. Thought she doubted Mindee was The One for Malfoy, she began to think maybe he's beginning to appreciate the company of a woman and not just use her to satisfy his er, manly urges.

Oh, she didn't mean to eavesdrop, but then again, it was hard not to listen into the conversation since Mindee was practically shouting out her delight.

"Oh, it looks SO nice on you darling," one of the girls standing around Mindee exclaimed. Hermione couldn't help but detect a tinge of jealousy. This was a prime example of why Hermione was always nervous around other women. What they said and what they thought were sometimes entirely different. She found men, or at least the ones that she knew, were much more upfront and well, simple.

She looked over to see what all the fuss was about. She blinked in surprise – the once platinum blonde Mindee was no more!

There stood a preening, newly brunette woman.

"Oh, thank you!" Mindee replied happily, stroking her smooth, soft, darkened tresses. "Draco was forever telling me how much dark colors suited my complexion so much better, so I decided, why not? And you know what? He **_loves_** it!"

The women around her sighed with longing.

Mindee joined them with a sigh of her own. She leaned over to them and staged-whispered to them in a giddy tone, "He told me……he told me brown hair was **_sultry_**!"

They all collapsed into fits of girlish giggles before the women began firing question after question about his facial expressions and his exact words and so forth.

Hermione continued to walk until she was well past them and was alone again in the hallway. She pursed her lips quizzically. Brown hair? Sultry? With Malfoy?

She took a strand of her curly hair and looked at it carefully. Brown hair looked pretty damned plain to her. Plain, common, boring – all the like. She couldn't count the number of times Malfoy himself mocked her hair, calling it bushy and unrefined and plebian and unremarkable.

Then she shrugged and continued walking. She shouldn't dwell too much of her time on this. He probably meant the brown hair looked sultry ON Mindee, not brown hair in general. Of course. Hermione shook her head, smiling ruefully. What other explanation could there be?

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All thoughts of Mindee flew out the window as Hermione re-read for the fifth time the many pieces of paper jammed in her mailbox. Each time she read them her eyes narrowed more, her breath quickened, her grip on the notes grew tighter.

The two that stuck out the most to her were as followed:

**To Dr. Hermione Granger, Head Alchemist, Level 9:**

**We of the Ministry Department of Work Ethics regret to inform you your request of visiting Prague for said work related issues has been denied. Reason: The Minister of Magic has personally stated your presence is needed here for the Annual Charity Gala.**

**Sincerely, David Kinsley, Director of Travels, Level 6  
Forwarded by: Charles Farrell, Manager, Level 9**

**Date: XX/XX/XXXX**

And even earlier dated:

**To Dr. Hermione Granger, Head Alchemist, Level 9:**

**We of the Ministry Department of Public Relations are proud to announce the final schedule and plans for this year's Annual Charity Gala. We have an innovative take of the Gala this year – the focus being on personalizing and humanizing the face(s) of the Ministry. All Heads, Secretaries, Under-Secretaries, and Chairmen are required to participate. You will be required to be present and to assist the Gala. More details concerning your involvement in this matter will be sent at a later date. Here's to a happy Gala!**

**Sincerely, Maxine McTaggart, Chief Coordinator of Events, Level 8**

**Forwarded by: Charles Farrell, Manager, Level 9**

**Date: XX/XX/XXXX**

"_That damned Charles Farrell!_" she thought furiously. All these memos, all of these important, relevant, and more importantly, massively disappointing memos have sudden appeared in her box, three, maybe even 4 months delayed!

This was unacceptable. This would not be taken lightly.

All the emotions she had tried so hard to keep bottled in for the past week were finally released. They needed a target. He would do. He will pay.

Let the rampage begin.

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"…so then I told her that brown hair couldn't work for everybody's complexion," Mindee babbled happily.

"Uh huh," Draco mumbled noncommittally. Gods, did she ever stop talking. Why she felt that it was okay for her to invade his private space like this and come and bother him in his own office while he had pressing matters to attend to was beyond him.

"Are you even listening to me?" she pouted cutely, tossing her hair over her shoulders, hoping to capture his previous approving mood of her hair.

"You have to understand my dear," he said distracted, opening up a few new folders on his desk, "I am a very busy man. Need I remind you I head Funds as well as assess the Alchemists in Poison?"

"Yes but, just this morning….," she began, walking closer to him when –

"**_MALFOY_**!" a voice boomed from his fireplace behind his desk. Quills in their holder rattled. Draco nearly jumped out of his chair and quickly turned around to see a very, very agitated Hermione-head.

"Merlin Granger, what is your **problem**!" he asked, surprised at the look of pure irritation written all over her face.

"My problem? I'll tell you my problem!" her voice nearly screeched. "This is my **_fucking_** problem!" Within the fire, he could vaguely make out Hermione shoving pieces of paper towards him. His eyebrow raised slightly in inquiry at her tone and usage of such language.

"It's fire-connection – I'm afraid you're going to have to explain to me what your so-called fucking problem is," he replied casually, ignoring Mindee's gasp at their foul mouths.

"It's that goddamn, no good, useless piece of shit Farrell!" Hermione managed to toss out. "He denied me my Prague trip and we're required to go to that fucking gala and all of these memos JUST CAME TO ME FUCKING TODAY!"

Draco's lips couldn't help but curve up. He couldn't help it if he found her increasing use of dirty words very amusing. "Of course we're required to go – didn't you get the memo…. oh."

"DAMN right OH. That incompetent, poor excuse for a human being! He always fucks things up! Always late on shit like this! Never did a right thing in his whole pouncy life, that stupid little CUNT!"

"While I agree with you whole-heartedly on his incompetence, I fail to see why you're bringing this to my attention," he said, cocking his head playfully, enjoying this much unseen side of Hermione.

Hermione allowed herself to throw him a savage smile. "I know you just don't think of that stubby bitch as an annoyance."

Draco's eyes narrowed. She was correct. Farrell was a right mistake. Due to his inaptitude a few years ago, he nearly cost the Ministry thousands of Galleons for a simple, single oversight. Something, in Draco's opinion, that could have been spotted by a ten-year old. He never was able to get into Draco's good graces after that. Partially the reason why he billed Level 9 so intensively.

"Stupid arsehole probably couldn't tell the difference between a cock and a twat," he muttered. Hermione nodded vigorously.

"I want to nail him," she declared intensely. Draco grinned ferally and leaned in.

"Oh, how delicious. Tell me more."

Hermione matched his grin. "Let's fuck him good."

Draco barked out a laugh and stood. "Done. What do you have?"

"Two 'effing large record books, documented to the minutest detail of his utter bullshit. You?"

"Files of not only his huge blunder which I had to fucking cover for but also evidence of his charming habit for spending money where he shouldn't be spending it." Draco began going through a few file cabinets. He became annoyed when he couldn't find it. He slammed a few drawers open and shut.

"Call me insane, but wouldn't your incriminating files be placed somewhere more discreet?" Hermione suggested.

Draco snapped his fingers. "Right you are, luv, they're behind that painting," he walked across the room, brushed past Mindee and removed the painting to reveal a safe. As he was working the safe, he continued to chat with the still steaming head.

"I can't wait to throw that motherfucker out into the street, I can just taste it," Hermione rambled, seething.

Though he was concentrating on getting just the right combination for the lock, he managed to throw her a smoldering look. "Did I mention you're making me very nostalgic? Why am I usually the only one you grace with this side of you, Granger? It's very sexy – reminds me of the soldier in you."

His words managed to knock her, temporarily, out of her angry stewing. Her eyes widened with disbelief. His eyes held fast to hers.

She blushed. Then she frowned, collecting her wits. "Shut it, Malfoy, stop being so ridiculous and focus. I'm coming up so let's time this right. At the five." With that, the fire instantly died down and Malfoy returned his focus on the safe.

He made a satisfied sound when it clicked open and he quickly removed the few boxes within. As he was rifling through them, Mindee felt utterly lost.

"What…what was all that?" she asked, appalled at everything; their language, their familiarity, their perfect teamwork, their identical wavelength….

Draco looked up from the files for a moment to look at her with lazy, indifferent eyes. "Oh, that's right, you weren't a part of it."

"Huh?" she was beginning to feel very threatened. Left out. She felt…insignificant.

Offhandedly, he explained: "During the War it was only natural for all of us, especially those of us straight out of Hogwarts, to put up a tougher front, a shell. We developed a new culture that helped us cope and integrate ourselves better for those times." He began separating the files into two piles.

"Part of that culture included so much swearing it could peel paint right off of a wall. Granger especially. The times really hit her hard and she had to shoulder a lot of the tension. If she didn't toughen up she would have eventually gone mad," he smiled at the memory. "Isn't it interesting how humans will do anything to cope, even change something as seemingly unimportant as speech?"

As he was speaking, Mindee felt more and more alienated from Draco. Truth be told, at times she felt that Draco was cold, unintentionally cruel to a woman's heart. He gave her this look sometimes, a faraway look, like he wasn't looking at her at all. Unreachable. Like he could see right through her. Like she didn't mean anything.

But she also noticed he was different when he looked at Hermione Granger. Sure, his words were hurtful, but that in itself was cause for notice. For someone as suave as Draco, to be so harsh to only her seemed out of character. In any case, if one were to ignore his words, they would then notice the way he looked at her and only her.

He was alive. His very presence was humming with energy. Even when he looked like he was utterly disinterested, Mindee noticed his acute focus. He focused on nothing but her.

Blind to all else.

Before she could truly let her revelations sink in, Draco replaced the boxes and locked the safe. He looked at his watch. "Damn, it's time." He managed to glance at Mindee before saying dismissively, "This will take awhile, so why don't go back to work."

And with that he brushed past her without a second glance, files under his arm.

Mindee merely stood in his now empty office, vaguely hearing his deep voice coming from behind, down the hall:

"Why Farrell, what a pleasant surprise – how refreshing to see you on this Level. Ah, these? Well, now that you mention it, it has come to my attention – oh, no wait, there she is – it has come to OUR attention that you, my good man, have been a very dubious character as of late. Come, let us go somewhere a little less crowded and let's **_chat_**."

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Hermione wasn't sorry to see Farrell go. She was elated to know she was a direct cause. If there were any sort of negative feelings following the whole ordeal, they would be the fact she couldn't go to Prague. Also that such an insignificant wanker like him could elicit a side of her she long tried to bury. Hermione wasn't necessarily proud of the person she was during the War, but she accepted that it was a part of her and integral in dealing with the times. But after the War, she worked her ass off to return to the straight-laced, sensible person she once was. And that was to be polite, eloquent, and well-mannered.

Well, that went out the fecking door.

In any case, getting him fired didn't change the fact that she had to go the dreaded Gala. Dateless. Yet again. So explains why instead of eating during her lunch hour, she was trudging towards Lavender's boutique to finally relent control to the fashionista.

When the decently-sized shop came into view, Hermione's face involuntarily softened when she looked at the large, tasteful sign hanging from above.

Cupid's Arrow.

Hermione was flattered when the girls decided unanimously to use the name she suggested off the top of her head. The boutique was basically owned and run by Lavender, Parvarti, Padma, and a friend they met through the fashion circuit named Leticia Lin. Though everything was a group effort with everybody contributing, four roles emerged that each felt confident in taking charge of: Lavender designed and created most of the clothing; Parvarti specialized in makeup and skincare; Padma managed their accounts and worked with the advertisements and sales; and finally Leticia focused on designing and supplying accessories, such as bags, jewelry, and shoes.

Together they formed the ultimate place for a woman to become all she could be. And they were immensely popular. Hence, Hermione felt their boutique should be aptly named Cupid's Arrow. With their assistance, they claimed they could make any man fall for the customer – they were essentially the demi-god's arrow of Love and Attraction.

Before she could push open the glass door, it opened to reveal an exuberant Lavender. "Hermione! We've been expecting you," she said slyly. Without another word, she dragged her into the store and flipped the sign to read: "Sorry turtledoves, we're out to Lunch!"

After what seemed like hours, Hermione stumbled out of the shop, mumbling thanks, much to the delight of the four women. Though she was quite fond of all of them, there was only so much pampering she could take.

Deciding she could use some more time off, she turned the corner and heading towards her favorite bookshop. As she passed by an antiques shop that had large mirrors behind the display window, she stopped sudden to study her appearance.

Despite her many protests, Parvarti managed to get her hands on Hermione briefly. Though she didn't do much, she was able to apply a pretty, sparkly pink gloss over her full lips and let down her hair from its usual tight bun, smoothing her curls slightly. She had to admit, she did look a lot more presentable and, dare she even say it, even a bit more approachable?

Her train of thought was broken when she noticed a semi-large crowd gathering in the bookstore. Curiosity getting the better of her, she quickly entered to see what all the commotion was about. As it turns out, the shop was having some sort of book signing with the author of some popular young adults book.

Hermione attempted to maneuver her way through the crowd as discreetly and politely as possible, so that she could reach the back Reference Section. Ignoring the gentle buzz of conversation behind her, she focused on reading the titles and occasionally running her finger down the spine of a leather-bound book.

Strange. She thought she could feel someone watching her. She turned around cautiously, but couldn't find anybody even facing her. How odd. She must have imagined it. She returned back to her books.

There it was again.

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?"

She turned at the sound of the smooth, melodic voice. Her eyes widened.

"Merlin, Blaise Zabini, is that you?"

Goodness gracious. Will wonders never cease. Standing before her was THE Blaise Zabini – one of the most well known Wizards in Europe. Although he was technically her classmate for seven years, Hermione had very little contact with him. During the War he was a neutral but funded for the Light, which of course made her respect him all the more.

He was a gorgeous man, thanks in no small part to his beautiful African mother. Half African, half Italian and raised as such, he had a sensual air about him even when doing nothing at all. Blaise was tall, with soft jet-black hair and a dusky complexion. While Draco held a cold, sharp, aristocratic kind of handsomeness, Blaise was soft, hot, and rugged.

Hermione nearly lost her voice, so lost in the vision before her. It was like looking at a fantasy painting.

He smiled, showing off his glistening white teeth. "Fancy seeing you here," he stepped forward and grasped her hand, kissing it chastely as required by aristocracy. Hermione tried, and miserably failed, to hide her blush. "Come around these parts often?" His gentle, lilting Italian accent was very pleasing to listen to.

"Er, I suppose so," she fumbled. "I do work for the Ministry. I uh, didn't know you still around."

He chuckled. "I actually just came back from America and felt the urge to walk on familiar grounds. You said you worked for the Ministry?" When Hermione nodded, he smiled. "I see. Interesting."

Blaise turned to look at her fully – his eyes were the most unique shade of amber. Hermione remembered some of the girls back at Hogwarts comparing his eyes to molten lava. Hermione remembered comparing the girls to silly ninnies. But now she found herself quite agreeing. They were really, very hypnotic.

She found him looking at her quizzically. She blushed. Oh no, had she be staring? How embarrassing. Remove yourself!

"Well, it was lovely to see you again Blaise, but I really do need to get back to work," she said softly, smiling nervously.

"Of course," he said with a small bow.

As she turned to leave, he suddenly grabbed her bent elbow. His grip was gentle, yet firm. She looked at him in surprise.

He looked at her apologetically. "Ah, sorry," he said, quickly releasing her. He hesitated a moment, then breathed out. "I apologize. It may seem very odd, but I would actually like to renew my acquaintance with you."

Hermione just stared at him. "Excuse me?" she looked around, certain someone was playing a prank on her.

"No no, please do not take it the wrong way," he said gently. "I know we never really were close back at Hogwarts, but I'd like that to change. I've been all over the world for these past four years or so, and when I noticed you today, I realized how long it has been since I last saw a familiar face. Of course, if you don't want to, I completely understand – "

"Oh! No, not at all," she said quickly. "I had no idea how lonely traveling was. I'd be delighted." She smiled warmly.

He returned it. "That is wonderful," he clasped one of her hands with both of his, squeezing them. He kissed it with more enthusiasm than is required by decorum. "I will let you go back to work – please expect to hear word from me soon. Ciao." His eyes followed her the whole time as she walked toward the door.

Hermione left the bookstore in a daze. What strange times these be indeed. She always knew Blaise was good looking, but he looked like a movie star. Like the men Witch's Weekly proudly sport on their front cover, like –

Malfoy. She grimaced a little. Or Harry. Or Ron. Or Oliver Wood. Or the Twins. Okay, so she actually knew quite a few men that graced the cover of that magazine. Blaise wasn't necessarily more handsome than any of them – each had their own charm and strengths – but Hermione felt like she just couldn't take her eyes off him. She didn't know what it was, maybe because he was always so mysterious to her. She basically grew up with all the other men and they all treated her, with the exception of bastard Malfoy, like a sister. Blaise's treatment of her could go any direction.

Not that she was entertaining thoughts that Blaise in any way fancied her. It would be just too surreal if he did. The disparity between the two, status wise and appearance, was too big. All she could ever hope for was a friendship.

And besides, she still wasn't completely over Alex. Her heart was not that fickle, unfortunately. Still, as she entered the Ministry, she couldn't help but let a little grin escape. She patted her hair. Maybe Parvarti was right about a few things.

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"Long time no see, Draco," Blaise said with a smile, entering Draco's office with an air of familiarity.

Draco's eyes widened. "Blaise?" Draco prided himself on his tight control of emotion, but he couldn't help but be very astonished to see the man he practically grew up with.

"Doing quite well for yourself I see," he said, looking around the office, casually sitting down in front of his desk.

"I manage," Draco said mechanically. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I stop by after all this time and see an old mate?"

Draco managed to regain his footing and gave an easy smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "I doubt you're hear for just a social call, otherwise you'd have owled me."

Blaise chuckled, nodding. "Too true, you know me all too well."

Draco's fist clenched under his desk.

"I'm actually here with Taylor Vanderbilt, from America. Old money, well, as old as you can get in a place like that," he said lightly. "We're here on business, naturally. Investing is the name of the game."

"So you're the new experimental backer the Ministry is looking into," he said with some new understanding. The Ministry, being an official, governing institution, was not invested by individuals – it was supposed to be a self-sustaining system that made its own funds. However, Arthur decided, as well as with the Board of Elders, to perhaps try this new avenue. If anything, Arthur was never afraid to take risks and think outside the box.

"Right on the nose," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Well then, allow me to be the first to say welcome aboard," Draco said with a tight smile, getting up to clap his once-best friend on the shoulder. "You're in for some interesting times."

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If Draco had any sort of reservations about Blaise, they appeared to have all disappeared by the time Hermione came up the Level 5. In light of her good mood from the bookstore, Hermione felt very generous. Her good mood also stemmed from firing Farrell with gusto, so she felt like offering the olive branch and invite Draco out for some celebratory drinks after work.

She was amazed to see Draco standing outside his office laughing and talking effortlessly to Blaise and a tall, brown haired man. Before she could turn around and come back later, Blaise's sharp eyes looked over to her and widened slightly, before he smiled.

"What a pleasant surprise – I was just about to ask about where you worked," he called out winningly, beckoning her to join them.

Hermione looked around, making sure that it was indeed her he was talking to. Smiling shyly, not really meeting his eyes, she walked over.

Since her eyes were lowered self-consciously, she didn't notice Draco grimace when he saw her. Nor did she catch him shift uncomfortably when she joined them.

Blaise, oblivious to his behavior, introduced Taylor to Hermione. "How do you do," she said softly, shaking his hands.

"Excellent, doing wonderful," he said with a friendly smile, glancing over her quickly. He then turned to Draco and continued where he left off. "As I was saying, the décor of that building really reminded me of one of my homes up in the Hamptons, where – "

"Where are my manners," Draco interrupted smoothly, smiling amiably to both Blaise and Taylor. "I'd hate for Vanderbilt here to think we English are terrible hosts. Instead of standing around here and talking amongst such a dull backdrop, why don't we go somewhere with a little more atmosphere?"

The men agreed and before they could either invite her to leave her out, Hermione quickly took matters into her own hand. "Knowing Malfoy, you won't be disappointed in his choice of watering holes," she said with bright smile, already backing away. "I'll leave you gentlemen to your own devices. Alchemy calls!"

After Hermione firmly assured Blaise that they need not worry, he reluctantly agreed to respect her wishes. With that, Malfoy told them to meet him on the ground floor, as he had to pack his belongings. When the two left, Hermione was about to leave until she saw Malfoy looking at her strangely. She fidgeted a little. What was he looking at. His demeanor was entirely different than a few hours ago. Now he seemed more reserve, like he remembered that he didn't like her or something. His mouth was set in a grim line.

Although Hermione never expected Malfoy to notice, much less compliment, on her very small makeover, she never would have guess he would say, as he walked past her, "Why don't you clean up a little bit Granger. You look like hell."

She was so astonished at what he said she didn't even begin to feel angry until well after he left. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Of all the…..! How **_dare_** he…! What did he mean by….!

"**_ARGH!"_** she thought spitefully, feeling the rage she thought had dissipated with the firing of Farrell coming back full force. "Who the **hell** does he think he is!" she sputtered out loud.

"_I take back every nice thing I thought about him! I was so **stupid** to let my guard down – never again. Still the arrogant, infuriating little prick! I can't believe I was going to ask him to join me in anything! I can't believe I thought that we worked well together – that he knew **anything** about me!"_ she thought furiously, incensed.

She stomped her way into the lift, angrily jabbing the button to go back down to her Level. Gods, she was steaming mad, now more than ever. All of this rage, this feeling of worthlessness, brought back memories of another time when she was just as outraged, if not more.

"_I hear you've been telling all the generals that I can't work the field? That I'm not capable!" Hermione practically screamed, pounding the table between them._

"_Calm down Hermione, you're causing a scene," Ron barked._

"_No I will NOT call down Ronald, not until you explain this all to me! How dare you! Not only are you denying me a chance to prove myself, you actually believe and spread this idea that I can't hold my own? You know I am just as good as any man Harry Potter, so you let me out there and let me DO something for once!" her rage was building, her frizzy hair almost crackling with power._

_However, Harry Potter would not budge. "No Hermione, I don't take back what I said and I'll continue doing it. The field is too dangerous right now – you'll only be a casualty! Why can't you be satisfied working as Strategos and training the younger ones?"_

"Are you even listening to yourself? I can't hack it on the missions but I have enough qualifications to teach? That doesn't make any sense! Let me out there Harry, I know I can do some good. I don't think we're in any kind of position where we can pick and choose what to do – we're in desperate times. We need to do all we can!" Hermione was too proud to plead, but she tried to talk reason to Harry, even taking most of the bite out of her words.

"_Stop it," Ron growled. "What we say, goes! We don't want you getting the way, so just give it up and go back to sleep!"_

Hermione couldn't really remember what happened after that, but she knew she saw red for days to come. It was very hard to forgive them for that. And for all the other times they pulled that card out on her.

The memory only helped to fuel her raging inferno. That poison better be ready to spill its secrets.

"B_ecause I'm about to squeeze and torture them out of it_!" she thought ferociously.

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Again, can anybody say, quickest update for SnowFlakeImp? Cuz I can! Wow, all of your reviews are so heartening! I love reading them and I especially LOVE reading your predictions. This story is all thanks to you guys – you make me feel validated and all warm and fuzzy inside.

I am very pleased to see what you guys had to say about what's going on in the fic. Is it revealing too much to say a lot of what you guessed is right on the nose? When I first saw them, I thought, "Oh no, my story is too simple and stupid and everybody caught on already," but to save my ego, I'm just going to say you're all really, really, really really smart. Okay?

And I mean that. And you're all very creative! Some of your suggestions weren't right, but damn, I wish I thought of that! Maybe if I feel like it, I'll go back and make a few changes accordingly (if I did, rest assured I'd give you FULL credits). I'm just really happy you guys are catching onto ALL my little clues! I was scared before that you wouldn't catch them and my craftiness would go to waste, but at the same time, I didn't want to underline them in red ink and go like:

Harry felt as if this had happened before…but..when? (see that? There, that's a clue – look at that. Remember it. He feels that this might be familiar. OoOH. That may come up later. Think about it!)

Or some nonsense like that. I try not to go for the obvious but I am no master at subtlety so I'm doing the best I can. Oh, and I apologize for not individually thanking each and every person who reviewed, though I'd like too. I think it may be a tad too gratuitous to include my words of thanks here, but know I would write you essays upon essays had I the time! But if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them (so long as I'm not giving away answers) in my author's notes. Um, the only thing I can think of right now is:

To BadKittyCat: In regards to my character descriptions of minor characters staying blurry, I'm afraid there's no intelligent thinking behind them – it's a mixture of both laziness on my part, and that the minor characters don't really need all that much descriptions, I think. I want them to remain kind of ambiguous, because they really don't matter that much in terms of moving the story along. Man, if I had some sort of deep meaning behind their characterizations……dang! That's smart! Oh well. Hope that answers your question )

Next chapter: the long awaited GALA! I will try my best not to make it too predictable and give you many more clues and twists and turns! Till next time! Heart heart heart!

BTW if you haven't already, read "The Politician's Wife." It's a D/Hr, post-Hogwarts, Ministry-type fic that is way, WAY better than mine. I wish the author would update!


	9. The Gala, Part 1

The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 09

Disclaimer: HAHA suckers, I own Harrey Potter! I don't need Harry Potter, don't wanna own it, don't want anything legal to do with it. I enjoy being poor and running away from student loans.

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When the party committee was prepping the large conference room often used for celebrations such as this, they unfortunately forgot a crucial detail.

**_Never_** include the color pink.

Ever since the aptly dubbed "Thursday Diluted Red Incident," the color pink had been banned from most of the sectors of the Ministry. Due to the trauma left by said tragedy, many grown men and women could not even look at the color pink or else they would crumple to the floor and begin shaking, crying out for help to various religious icons. Or run the hell out of a room, screaming for their lives.

Which was what one of the staff overlooking the decorating process did.

It was quite a tedious task chasing after him – in his hysteria, he couldn't quite remember the layout of the Ministry – for he sprinted all around the levels of the building rather than run for the front doors leading outside. It took five staff members, a secretary, a janitor, and two dogs to track him down and subdue him.

No one else was harmed nor traumatized, though the party committee's leader and co-chair had been thoroughly chastised for their inclusion of pink in their 5-colored confetti.

Few hours later, the decorating was complete and the guests had all arrived. Welcoming them as they walked in was a banner strung above the doors, reading: Congratulations Alchemists!

A couple of days after Blaise Zabini and associate first step foot in the Ministry, Hermione and her fellow alchemists finally broke the first layer of the poison mod they were currently working on. The cause of the celebration was twofold: the first being that breaking the first layer was always the hardest, after that it was only a matter of time and crunching formulas before a cure was produced; the second cause was because this particular poison was running rampant in Germany. A poison with no cure quickly became very popular for the cowardly.

Hermione was demur and modest, chalking up the discovery to hard work and the skills of her team. She didn't want to admit, especially to herself, a large deciding factor to their discovery was because she threw herself into her work due to her frustrations over Malfoy. She practically worked nonstop day and night, attempting to calm herself and prevent any kind of physical altercations with him.

Also, his words stung her. To a degree that surprised even her. She had no idea that pompous bastard's opinion of her mattered so damned much.

Because of this confusion, Hermione resorted to a behavior she found more familiar – she grew very prickly over him. Which explains why she was currently glaring at him chatting with a few people while drinking some of the celebratory punch.

"Congratulations, Dr. Granger," a soft, gentle voice came from her left. When she turned around, she was face-to-face with Amelia Walker, i.e. a person she really didn't want to talk to at the moment.

"Oh, well, thank you very much," Hermione stuttered. It wasn't that she didn't like Amelia – she seemed like a nice girl and Alex seemed happy with her. It was just that Hermione didn't want to deal with ugly feelings like jealousy and superficiality targeted towards anybody, much less just some girl that found happiness with some guy. And as much as she hated feeling those emotions, nevertheless they bubbled within her whenever she saw Amelia.

"Alex said he had to take care of the Minister, but he would be down to congratulate you himself in a little bit," Amelia continued, blissfully unaware of Hermione's mental state.

"Oh, that's very nice," Hermione said, quashing any negative emotions she felt. "You two seem very happy."

Amelia smiled, showing off her perfect white teeth. Hermione's parents would have been very proud and given her a sugar-free lollipop. "Yes we are," she said, raising an eyebrow. She leaned in, letting Hermione into a little secret. "Between the two of us, Alex is very different when he's off duty. He simply adores me and is quite charming in his affections – quite like a little puppy."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Really? I can't imagine…."

Thankfully Amelia was called away to drink some punch before the conversation could go on any longer. She breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, to be honest, Hermione was basically over Alex. She knew when she was beat, after all. And besides, although they had some lovely conversations, she found more and more they really didn't have all that much in common. If anything, he would make a wonderful friend, but all the butterflies that Hermione had felt before were most likely due to her own nervousness and fantasies rather than anything Alex had to offer. He was a convenient object of affection when she was holed up with mad scientist, two attractive yet brotherly best friends, and an utterly infuriating rival. Alex was nice, eloquent, and there.

Still, Alex was a great man and just the fact that she didn't have a chance with him nipped her. Now she no one to focus on, no one to fantasize about maybe he could be the one who would treat her like a queen and call all other women hags.

Instead she was stuck with **_this_**.

**_This_** being a very annoying Draco Malfoy acting like he owned the place, nay, acted like he himself discovered the break and the party was for him.

"_Look at him preening at all those people looking at him, hmph_!" she thought bitterly, narrowing her eyes at him while he entertained a rather large group of people in the middle of the room. "_Like he has anything interesting to say_."

She sighed. Although she was glad for the discovery, she was a pretty low-key kind of person. She wasn't exactly fond of a lot of attention and fanfare. Celebrations like this tired her out. And considering the Gala was two days away, Hermione felt like she really needed the strength to survive the event still smiling. She had no idea how raging socialites that participated in this sort of thing practically daily did it.

"Ahh too many things are happening at once," she grumbled to no one in particular, laying her head down rather ungracefully on the tabletop.

"Wasn't it you who asked for an exciting life?" a smooth voice drawled from above her.

"No, that was YOU!" Hermione bit out. "All I ask for is a boring life – if things remained practically the same everyday for the rest of my life, I'd be a happier woman."

At the unconvinced grunt, she also noted, "I ask for it in my diary every year for my birthday. I've had enough exciting days to last me ten lifetimes."

"You actually keep a diary? How old are you exactly, ten?"

Suddenly, her head shot up. Why was she even talking to him? Hermione glared at his smug face, growling, her upper lip curling slightly. She was supposed to be mad at him – damn him for making her forget that and tricking her, drawing her into a normal conversation. Hermione stood up and without a word, marched off to where Ron was currently talking enthusiastically with a few co-workers over Quidditch.

On her way over across the room, she noticed Mindee sitting quite desolately in a corner, holding a mug of coffee by herself. Looking at her, Hermione felt a brief pang of sympathy for the pretty girl. She wondered if Malfoy finally broke things off with her. She then noticed her looking longingly at Hermione's direction. For a second she panicked, wondering if Mindee felt, like many of Draco's castoffs, that Hermione was the cause of all her problems. But when she followed her eyes, to her relief, they were not cast directly at her. They were looking……behind her.

Hermione spun her head around to see that Malfoy had been trailing her. With a glare, she whipped her head back and stomped even faster to where Ron was. She then felt a tickle near her neck and she stopped abruptly, this time turning her entire body.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, touching the back of her head to make sure he hadn't stuck anything nasty in her head. Though she thought him to be above his schoolboy antics, for now she wouldn't put anything past him.

He shrugged. "I was merely picking this off your shoulders," he said easily, holding up a stray hair.

"Oh," she said, simmering down a little before flaring up again. "Well, stop it! I don't need your help. And stop following me!"

Ignoring her completely, he continued, "You've been letting your hair down more lately. There a reason behind it?"

Hermione had the grace to blush. She **had** been letting her hair down more often. After that run-in with Blaise, she thought that maybe having her hair down and trying to appear more approachable was a factor in his friendliness. Quite silly of her, really.

She bit out, "Mind your own business!"

Still, with the mention of Blaise, her train of thought led to the folded letter in her lab coat:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I was very happy when you responded to my letter so quickly. To tell you the truth, I was nervous writing to you in fear that you would cast away my letter with disinterest. I heard that your department had a breakthrough – congratulations! It was all due, no doubt, to your vast intellect. I hope that we can have dinner sometime to catch up properly. I feel writing letters can communicate only so much. I eagerly await your reply on this matter._

_Distintamente,_

_Blaise Zabini_

It was a very nice letter, very unexpected. Hermione was skeptical at whether Blaise was sincere or not about his wish to renew their acquaintance, but when he sent his first letter, it was very nice, heartfelt, and charming.

Oh dear, maybe her heart really was that fickle. Why else would she blush and smile like a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of the letter? Or maybe it was because she was merely pleased to finally have someone recognize her as a person, maybe even as a woman.

In any case, thinking about Blaise made her temporarily forget that Draco was following her and proceeded to butt into Ron's conversation, integrating himself seamlessly. Of course he would be well versed in Quidditch, being the seeker for Slytherin and captain of the team his 7th year. Ron had been bugging him for years to scrimmage with him, hoping to pay him back for all the times he played against him when he was the Gryffindor Keeper.

She was growing increasingly annoyed that she specifically sought out Ron for company and conversation, only to have him snatched away from her by the one she wanted to get away from in the first place. She cleared her throat noisily.

"Oh, sorry 'Mione, didn't see you there," Ron said sheepishly, embarrassed that she caught him ignoring her in favor of Quidditch. The other two men with him grinned at each other; they knew how much of a pushover Ron was when it came to his best friend. The quickly gave excuses and went back to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

"Well, now you do," she said scathingly, knowing full well Ron was undeserving for her temper but right now she just couldn't reign it in. Malfoy annoyed her SO much!

"Erm," Ron squeaked nervously, looking at Draco for some support but getting none. Stingy bastard. "So who's excited for Saturday's Gala? I know….I…am…"

Wrong thing to say. "I for one am certainly not!" she said heatedly. "I think this year will be a disaster. Making us participate in it is ludicrous! And it's highly disorganized – we haven't even received word on what we're supposed to help on, and it's already Thursday!"

"I don't know about you, but I got my instructions already. Have to take half a day tomorrow off to help out," Ron pointed up. Draco nodded.

"I think the tasks are different for the men and women. All the men I've talked to received instructions to help decorate and retrieve certain things. I wonder what the women are in charge of?" Draco mused, looking at Hermione, waiting for her hypothesis.

It never came. She didn't even look at him when he spoke. Acting like he hadn't even spoken at all, she continued, "I swear, we better not be doing anything embarrassing like holding a talent show or some rubbish like that." Hermione made sure she completely faced Ron.

She didn't want it to come to this, but Malfoy gave her no choice. With the way he was acting, he really brought out the childish, inappropriate side of her. So she did the thing she knew got to him the most.

She ignored him completely.

She found out years ago, when they were Heads together, one tried and true method to get him frustrated the fastest was for her not to look at him, to not acknowledge his presence. A few exchanges of this and he was huffing and puffing, red with irritation like a spoilt child denied. Hermione never really thought much about the power she wielded, she merely assumed the reason he got so worked up over something so simple was because he was an attention-whore. Used to being in the limelight, to have someone blatantly ignore his oh-so-shining presence was a travesty to him. Also, they were rivals. To be rivals was to yearn for each other's acknowledgments. Hell, even Hermione got testy when Draco chose to overlook her. It was just that it affected him more.

True to her prediction, he began the fidget, his eyes narrowing.

"I would consider it the greatest event in history if it forced the world to witness your singing, Granger," he said directly to Hermione, giving her another chance to redeem herself. Hopefully a blatant barb would snap her out of it.

No such luck. She didn't even shrug it off. Instead, she smiled at Ron. "So who's the lucky girl you asked to it? It's not Mandy, is it? She's atrocious, what with all those cosmetic charms."

"No need to get all shirty about her," Ron said, eyeing the two nervously. Oh dear. Although he wasn't too fond of Malfoy, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him a little. He was a man too, after all. "Still, I agree with Malfoy – singing would definitely not be on, would it?" There, he threw him a bone. Hopefully Hermione would take it. Otherwise things could….no, it probably **would** get uglier.

"I can't believe you're taking that vapid chit, Ron!" Hermione continued. "If you wanted to take someone that would get you attention, I think that last girl, what's her name, Rebecca, would do nicely. At least she has some decency."

Oh, that was the last straw. Draco wasn't going to pull any punches now. No one ignored him, especially not **_her_**.

"Be thankful he even has a date," Draco bit out, nearly snarling. "There are some out there that were too homely and dull to attract even the dredges of society to attach to their arm. I wonder who they could be?"

Hermione, though steadily training her body to remain still, tensed nevertheless.

"Macmillan, but that's because he's a closet pouf. There's Mildred in Accounting, but she doesn't have one because of that lip problem she's been having all year. Oh, and one more." Malfoy grinned darkly. Ron was making motions for him to cut it out to no avail.

"That's you, isn't it Granger? What's the matter, couldn't trick a man in time into believing you had anything interesting to say and be less of an eyesore you are now? Or maybe you were so busy waxing over some impossible love you couldn't buck it up and even ask somebody?"

That did it. "Hey now, that's going too far – " Ron began before getting interrupted but an infuriated Hermione.

"You shut your filthy mouth, Draco Malfoy!" she shouted. What right did he have!

WHAT RIGHT DID HE HAVE.

"How dare you even begin to assume you know one thing about me! Look at you! Just…just look at you, then look at me and you tell me….! You with your looks and your money, you have no idea what it's like to suffer, to always have to fight for something! People like you have no clue…. you have NO idea what it's like!"

Red faced and eyes threatening to tear, she quickly ran out of the room, much to the chagrin of the rest of the partygoers. As she pushed past the door, with Ron grabbing his collar and demanding an apology, she missed Draco smirking at her direction.

That was more like it.

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That son of a bitch.

That goddamned son of a bitch.

He had no right. NO RIGHT.

What did he know. He knew nothing. He had idea what she had to sacrifice, what she had to do. No idea what she yearned for, what she constantly denied herself. What she secretly wished for, what she knew she would never have.

He made it sound like getting a date was so easy, so natural. He had never suffered from unrequited love. Never had that feeling that he wasn't good enough, not matter what he did. People like him had everything given to them on a silver platter. People like him had people jumping over themselves to please him.

Not her. Never her.

Hermione stopped running when she reached the park and sat down at a secluded bench. She sniffed, determined not to shed a tear over something he said.

"That heatless monster," she whispered fiercely. He was always, always looking down on her.

She supposed she could perhaps be more presentable, had she focused on her looks. Or more popular, if she cared enough to attend more parties and socialize with different people. But she didn't. Why? Because there were more important things to focus on.

Like being the best she could be in academics, the one thing she was good at from the start. Like making sure she was the best in order to ensure that Harry and Ron made it out alive.

She wouldn't trade what she had for the world; because she sacrificed so much of her childhood, her womanly allure for it. But still, it didn't stop her from wanting everything he had. Though she would deny everything fiercely if asked. She hated feeling inadequate. She felt like she was already cursed with so many shortcomings already, to fail at anything else further drove home to her that she didn't deserve anything in life.

Hermione was even more agitated today, more than usual. More sensitive. It may have something do with the dream she had the other night. She knew parts of it stemmed from memories, but what it was from exactly she wasn't quite sure.

_It was during the War._

_Hermione tried hard not to cry. She struggled with the bonds on her hands and legs. They wouldn't budge. She cursed herself, over and over again._

"_You stupid, stupid, foolish excuse for a witch!" she thought madly to herself. "You've ruined everything. You just had to go back. You just had to get captured."_

_Now what was she going to do. Being a prisoner could ruin them all. She banged her head on to the cold, cement ground. Tears of frustration leaked out of her eyes unwillingly._

"_You idiot," she thought desolately._

Not wanting to think about it anymore, like when was this, what was she doing, she chose to focus on the situation at hand.

Damn Malfoy. Damn them all.

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Every year, the Ministry held one of the largest social gathering of witches and wizards. Known only as The Gala, it was essential a charity event held to garner money from the upper crust in order to help the Ministry. As it wasn't the most charitable or philanthropist cause to donate to, the Ministry had to make sure it was an enjoyable event, decked out as if for royalty. Most importantly, they made sure it became THE place to socialize – if you weren't there, you weren't important enough to talk to, weren't important enough to grace the pages of the newspapers and magazines coming out the next day.

Which was why Hermione was twitching nervously as Lavender attempted to hem the dress she picked out and was currently wearing.

"Ouch! Lav, you just stabbed me in the calf!" Hermione exclaimed, nearly kicking the haggard woman away.

"If you wouldn't fidget so, you'll come away from this unpoked!" she countered, her words muffled by all the pins in her mouth. "Now stand still!"

Hermione was having second thoughts about this whole thing. The sensible Hermione would have graciously backed out of the girls offers to help fix her up for the Gala and chose a respectable dress for a decent price. She would wash her face, put on a light lipstick, put on her sensible shoes and perhaps, if feeling generous, even wear an accessory or two.

Not this time. She was determined to change, if only for a night. And as much as she wanted to be girly and pampered and, dare she even say it, maybe even noticed, she couldn't help but grimace at the whole process. It was tedious and long and sometimes stressful.

She also hated the fact that Draco Malfoy's words helped spurn her into this whole thing. God forbid Malfoy forced her hand at anything, much less attempting to make herself more like all the other women attending the ball.

According to Lavender and the girls, what was currently in was lace, and lots of it. Layers of lace, tulle, see-through fabrics on top of shimmering, glittery clothing. A little poofy, very girly, reminiscent of a young, innocent girl in the fields during the Victorian era. Pastel colors were the color of choice. Shiny, big pieces of cocktail jewelry also made their way into the mainstream.

Hermione felt they looked ridiculous on her. Sure, on the right girl – the slim type, with a glamorous face and chic hair – could pull the look off easily and look stunning. On her, it looked like she was trying too hard. With much thought and trial and error, Lavender admitted she was quite pleased and surprised at Hermione's choice.

It was different than what was in style at the moment, but it was a daring, timeless piece that flattered Hermione to no end. It was a single, cowl necked, golden gown made of the glossiest satin. It helped slim and heighten her figure, looking like liquid gold melting and flowing down her womanly body all the way down to the floor. The cowl front fell gracefully on her chest, modestly showing her clavicle and barely skimming the beginning of her bust line. It was the back that made Hermione gasp.

It was almost nonexistent. The fabric thinned into string on her shoulders, then the satin dipped down in a V-shape all the way down to her lower back. It was almost indecent, saved only by the tastefulness of the front and the way the satin curved around her round bottom. Hermione thought it was too daring, but forged on when she saw Malfoy's smug face, laughing contemptuously at her if she wore yet again another long-sleeved, high-necked black dress.

Opting to put focus on the dress, Hermione chose pearls to be her jewelry of choice. A single, long strand of the more iridescent white pearls was chosen. It wound tightly once around her neck, fastening from behind then trailing all the way down to the middle of her back, ending with a simple knot. She chose three-inch open-toed stiletto heels of silky gold, with a simple strap encircling her ankles.

She wore no other jewelry, since she didn't want to walk in looking like an advert for a jewelry store. Parvarti chose to pile her hair up in a loose, messy knot on top of her head, making sure her hair wasn't pull too tightly on her head, leaving a few tendrils falling around her face. She tastefully wove another strand of pearls into her hair, making sure only small parts of the strand showed. She then dusted a golden powder across her eyelids, darkened her eyelashes with mascara and lined her eyes with a deep brown pencil. A quick swipe of a peachy bronze to the cheeks and a golden brown lipstick followed, ending with a clear lip-gloss with flecks of gold in it.

In short, she was completely transformed.

Hermione couldn't believe who she was looking at in the mirror. It was her but…..at her best. The girls all did a wonderful job at making her beautiful yet making sure never to transform her into a different person. Hermione had no idea how gorgeous she was to anyone else, but to her personally, she was at her potential best, and that was all she could ask for.

She didn't know why Malfoy's opinion mattered so much. She just knew she didn't like how much importance it held over her. Well, it was too late to back out now. She would just have to prove him wrong.

After thanking the girls profusely (Lavender got a little teary eyed until she quickly shooed her away – she had other customers to attend to, and then herself), she Apparated outside the huge Manor the Gala was held at this year.

Smoothing down her dress nervously, she stepped carefully towards the front gates that led to the main doors, making sure not to trip. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself.

She was so nervous around people, always have been. It was partly why Hermione was sometimes glad her role in the war was greatly under appreciated and overlooked. For someone who was so confident in the abilities she did have, having all eyes on her made her very uncomfortable. How would people react to the new her?

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Hermione's fears turned out to be unfounded. It turned out, upon her entrance, no one even really noticed her.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or a little disappointed. She sighed and figured these were the facts of life. Despite how silly those fashionable gowns had looked on her, they looked utter amazing on the women there tonight. She didn't really notice until now, but all the women who came to these events were stunning. They were dazzling in looks, in choices of dress, even in their demeanor. They just screamed, _look at me_. And looks they did get.

Although she knew she wasn't one of those knockouts, she had enough confidence to know that she wasn't completely horrid looking. In her mind, she figured, she was good-looking enough to be ignored. She wasn't so beautiful men would do a double take, but at the same time she wasn't ugly enough to earn a double take as well. She was average, forgettable. Why did she expect any different tonight just because she had some dress on.

But she had more things on her plate right now. No time to think about her beauty and their beauty. Her life and reputation was on the line.

"We're to take part in an AUCTION?" she squeaked, hoping she heard incorrectly.

"Yes um, it's a sure way to make money, we figured," the coordinator mumbled nervously, trying to make all the women from the Ministry line up behind the stage in the back of the

massive ballroom. In front of the stage were seats for the bidders to sit, separated by a single aisle. Behind the seats was the large floor reserved for dancing and behind that were the dining tables, decorated with rose petals and candles.

"This was the reason why you kept us all in the dark until now, wasn't it? To make sure none of us skived off!" accused Hermione, growing increasing aggravated and nervous.

The woman meeped with fear and quickly scuttled off, claiming she had to make sure everybody was in their places. Hermione began to hyperventilate. Good God, she would rather this be a talent show.

"_Calm down, maybe it's not as bad as you think_," she thought to herself. "_Maybe we're to just accompany the auction items to make them more enticing, like in those game shows on the telly."_

No such luck. They themselves were the items up for bid. They would treat the winner to three hours of their company. The location of the set-up was predetermined by the winner, choosing from a list of very elegant and classy restaurants and lounges provided by the Ministry. Of course, the Ministry would pay for the entire event. But the venues wanted to make nice to them, so the meals and subsequent drinks and such would be on the house. It was designed this way so that the couple would always be in a public place, in addition to having the area swarming with Ministry security in case anything foul was to occur.

Despite the other Ministry women chattering on excitedly, Hermione was sweating proverbial bullets. Sweet heavens, could there be anything more embarrassing? She could see her own horrible future: she would be standing on stage, in the dead of silence save for a few chirping grasshoppers, with the auctioneer nervously offering to PAY the audience to get her off his hands.

She didn't even have anyone to bet on her! She was second to last, meaning whatever random person in the crowd who may have bid on her out of curiosity would have already spent his money on the girls before her. Hermione would have usually relied on her best friends, but she was torn between wishing for Harry and Ron to save her from the humiliation and having consideration for their dates' feelings.

As she was waiting, watching woman after woman going up to the chopping block and instantly receiving bids, she began cursing everything. In alphabetical order.

* * *

Yow. I was originally going to make the Gala one single chapter, but I'm barely through half of my plot and it's already so long, so I'm splitting it off into two parts. Muahahhaha.

Again, thank you so much for the reviews, I love reading them! Oh, but just to let you know, I may not be updating as quickly as I have been for the past few chapters due to two reasons:

1.) Job hunting is a terrible mistress.

2.) I'm concerned with the way my story is going. It was fics like Temporary Insanity that inspired me to do this one – post-Hogwarts, light hearted, funny. But I realized, I'm not as good as those authors and I can't keep it light no matter how hard I try! I guess I feel more comfortable with dark themes, especially when it comes to this couple. And I feel bad, since it seems like the majority of the readers really enjoy the fun parts of the fic. The way I'm plotting out my story, it does a complete 180 degrees and I'm wondering if that's okay – I feel like it's a big detraction.

So I'm trying to work it out so that even though it's going to get dark in a few chapters, to try to infuse some light-hearted bits, but it's HARD! To confess, I'm not a big fan of fluff. All that "I love you, I love you more" mush is all well and good, but for me personally, I hate it. I like things raw, passionate, eternal. And for a couple like Hermione and Draco, I feel it's a very appropriate attitude. So it's hard for me to make this a fun fic throughout without getting the two together in a non-fluffy way. Again, I'm not that talented. I'm working on it, but I apologize in advance.

Speaking of fun, am I think only who really enjoyed the "blade-posy" of the past chapter? I'm not one to toot my own horn, but when I typed it, I laughed for hours. I still giggle over it. Maybe it's just me and my weird ways.

Oh yes, at the end of Blaise's letter translates to: Yours faithfully (in Italian). I think. I have no grasp of the language and got that off the internet, so if it's wrong, correct me!

I also apologize for the format – it's fine on my word document, but when I upload it, strange things happen, like bold/enlargement where I never had it and stuff like that. GRRR.

To moxie:

I apologize if I confused you in chapter 7. The poison reference in the end was to the poison Hermione was working on in the beginning of the chapter. Sorry if I didn't transition that clearly enough.

Ahh long author notes, bad SnowFlakeImp! To conclude, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and it wasn't too clichéd or predictable. Stay tuned for a very juicy (I PROMISE) conclusion to the Gala episode. Kisses!


	10. The Gala, Part 2

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I TOLD YOU! Hary Poter is MINE! Who cares about Harry Potter! Certainly not I, why would I want to claim that I own it? Ridiculous! Hary Poter has given me so much, I need nothing else. Like an inflated sense of worth. Practically priceless.

* * *

As Draco witnessed Isabella, Head of Accounting, bought for 700 Galleons, he couldn't help but chuckle. Oh lord, an auction. Were they serious? 

"700, eh? Highest bid of the night so far," Blaise noted, coming up from behind Draco, sipping on his Cabernet Sauvignon.

Draco easily schooled his face into one of carefree amusement. With a flash of his perfect white teeth, he raised his own glass of wine to Blaise's. "Who knew Lord Perry had a thing for number-pushers?" he asked, turning his attention back to the stage. The auction was winding down, with little over half left.

"I see the Ministry has gotten classier since last I attended one of these," Blaise remarked, sitting down near the front of the stage, shifting so Draco could sit to the right of him in the aisle seat. "I had no idea they would be serving vintage Trentino like pumpkin juice."

Draco swirled his glass and sniffed, noting the telling blackcurrant aroma with a slight cherry undertone. It was dry with just a kick of tart. It was a good year. "I agree, although I bet it has less to do with the Ministry's generous nature than with forcing the employees to create most of tonight's revenue."

Blaise smirked at him. "Still, despite the enticing Waterford glass, I can't bring myself to completely fall for a Cabernet Sauvignon."

"You Italians and your distrust," Draco scoffed good-naturedly. "Just because your soil doesn't nurture noble grapes as well as they do in Bordeaux shouldn't be reason to boycott it."

"You must come over to the estate, Draco, it's been years," Blaise announced, pausing only to appraise the strawberry blonde woman currently on the stage before turning back to his companion. "Our gardens have been completely revamped to showcase our new collection of Dahlia orchids. We also have a couple bottles of Solaia Antinori, 1997. Now that's good Tuscan wine."

"Who could refuse such an tempting offer? Although I must warn you, I recently fulfilled one of my life's dreams by acquiring a case of 1989 Haut-Brion. It's everything I could ever hope for in a wine." Draco couldn't help but sound a bit smug.

Blaise whistled. "You must have had to stake out the Château and threaten bodily harm to the owner!"

"I'm a changed man, Blaise," Draco said, eyeing him carefully. "Nowadays I tend to bribe more, intimidate less."

At his seemingly innocent words, Blaise elegantly raised his eyebrow. "If only you switched to this current personality sooner, _amico_. I daresay you would've had a better understanding for my needs."

Draco smiled without humor. "Forgive me for not being able to conform in order to fulfill all that you desire. _Mon ami_," he stressed, his tone being anything but friendly.

Whether or not Blaise noticed wasn't too clear. Regardless, he set his glass down in order to adjust his insanely expensive necktie, blood-red in color. Waving his hand as if wanting a change of subject, he queried, "I wonder when your resident Gryffindor is up? I think it will be interesting to see who will buy her."

Draco knew better. "Who knows," he said loftily, sweeping imaginary lint off his suit with a gloved hand. "I wasn't aware you had an interest in the bookworm."

Blaise chortled, giving his friend a knowing look. "Honestly Draco, I can't tell whether you're joking or not."

He merely gave a thin-lipped smile in return. Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement that their second-to-last lady was up next, the Head Alchemist for Poisons and Cures. Hermione Granger.

The two men dropped all pretense of conversation and their attentions focused on the currently empty stage.

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"_Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God_," Hermione thought frantically. Had Parvarti not forced her to accept a French-tip manicure, she would've bitten her fingernails clean off.

She turned to the last girl that was just auctioned off. "Lani," she whispered desperately, grabbing her arm tightly. "Please, save me – find a way to kill me quick! Suicide's a sin, but if **you** did it – !"

"Oh no, Hermione, you're not getting out of this one," Lani hissed, her ire not necessarily directed at the dreadfully haggard woman in front of her. She was just irritated, still getting over the fact that she would have to spend 3 hours with a wizened old mage from Ireland who had a belly the size of a beach ball. "Don't think you're going to escape the fate that befell the rest of us so easily!" She wretched her arm free from her surprisingly strong grip.

"No! You don't understand – " Hermione was interrupted when the very annoyed woman usher started pushing her towards the stage. She made a mad grab for Lani's hand but she hopped out of the way in time. Despite the usher pushing her more urgently onto the stage, Hermione managed to poke her head back through the curtains. "I WANT your fate! I don't want mine! Lani – !"

She was going to say more but found herself stumbling onto the stage with one final push. Wouldn't it be less embarrassing to be bought by some old man rather than not at all? Large candles floating above the stage grew brighter, their light beamed down onto her and blinded her from seeing the audience clearly. She squinted her eyes.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, mages and wizards, are you in for a treat tonight!" the auctioneer said enthusiastically. "Who will take home this delectable treat, the witch who single-handedly found the cure for the Widow's Blood poison when she was a mere twenty-four years old? Interesting stories, intelligent conversations, witty banter – you can have it all with this lovely lady!"

Hermione grimaced, fidgeting nervously at all the eyes that were undoubtedly upon her. "_I'm so glad all of my selling points have to do with my brains not my looks_," she thought sourly.

"Shall we start the bidding at 100 Galleons? Do we have 100 Galleons 100 Galleons do I hear 100 Galleons 100 Galleons here 100 Galleons?" the man began his craft, speeding up his speech, pointing at the crowd.

Silence.

With owls hooting.

Hermione's cheeks burned. The only thing she had to be thankful for at that moment was that the Wizarding World had no idea how embarrassing it was to have silence supplemented with the hooting of owls. They would think that it was only natural to hear the owls when quiet, as it was customary to have owls on hand in case letters needed to be delivered.

Little did they know in Muggle culture, the only thing more mortifying than silence was silence accompanied by nocturnal woodland creature sounds. All that was left would be tumbleweeds whooshing lazily across the room.

"_Please, someone, anyone, SAVE ME_!" she thought fervently. Hermione didn't care at this point – someone, just anybody – she would worship the ground he or she walked on, if only they would raise their hand.

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Blaise and Draco lounged in their seats, to everybody's eyes relaxed and uninterested as Hermione not-so-gracefully tripped onto stage. The only tell-tale sign of their anxiety was their hands, gripping their glasses firmly.

She was a vision. A golden pillar of loveliness. The way her hair was piled up to show off her swan-like neck, the way the fabric hugged her curves, her face, so beautifully yet lightly made up, when she was forced to turn in a circle – that **_back_**. She made the two aristocrats speechless.

Draco was the first to break out of the trance. He sneered. "She has no sense of dignity."

"I find her body movements charming," Blaise said lightly, smiling as Hermione looked around the room with a look of pure terror flashing across her eyes. She was unconsciously wringing her hands together.

The grip on Draco's glass tightened considerably. "Well, consider yourself the only one," he ground out, not even wanting to look at the dark man beside him. "Moving past that _connasse_'_s_ poise, her mouth is utterly foul. She makes a horrid date."

At this Blaise's golden eyes burned. He turned to Draco and said very slowly, very clearly, "Again, I find her mouth quite……charming."

Draco whipped his head to face him, his silver eyes blazing. He didn't have the change to say anything before Blaise raised his elegant hand, with his index finger raised.

"200 Galleons."

The room gasped. If anyone were to bid on her, the infamous, mysterious Blaise Zabini was very low on their list of candidates.

Draco trained his eyes on Hermione's face. She never could hide her emotions – he was always able to read her face like an open window. Confusion, relief, then back to confusion. He took a deep breath. His eyes darted back and forth between her and Blaise, who at the moment was sipping his wine with a small smile on his lips. Just Blaise's face alone had him raising his own hand, but he managed to stop himself before it reached over his head. His hand balled into a fist by his side.

"**_Shite_**," he thought bitterly to himself. He gritted his teeth. What to do.

He made the mistake of looking directly into Hermione's eyes, which were looking at Blaise and they were **shining**. She looked like she could kiss him on the spot. Blaise returned her look with a larger grin.

"300 Galleons," Draco's deep voice cut through the whispers. Blaise's eyes widened slightly, then he smiled knowingly.

"400."

"500."

"700."

"1,000 Galleons," Draco announced, ignoring the whispers that grew into outright conversations.

Blaise looked over at his friend, his eyes twinkling merrily. He laughed. "Draco, mate, weren't you just saying she would make a horrible date?"

"Yes I did," Draco supplied easily, finishing his wine. "But she would make an excellent torture subject."

"Well, I wonder who will win out – the one out for amusement or the one for torture?" he asked, waving at Hermione as she stood there with an aghast look on her face.

"The sky's the limit, Zabini," Draco said with a lazy smile.

Blaise groaned good-naturedly. "Then this will go on all night. Why don't you tell me your limit, I'll tell you mine, and we'll see quickly who will win this game."

"Maybe if you tell me your limit first."

Blaise thought about it. They were both Slytherins, but he knew out of the two of them, Draco was always willing to go that extra mile to get what he wanted – Blaise was more laid back in that matter. No matter what insane number he threw out, he had no doubt Draco would top it if he really wanted her.

He leaned over, bringing his lips close to Draco's ear. "Then how about we….share her?"

It took all of Draco's willpower not to rip himself away from the Italian's hot breath. He bared his teeth with what passed for a smile. He turned in his seat to face him, then suddenly he grabbed Blaise's head with his right hand, bringing his ear closer to Draco's lips.

"_You know I hate to share_," Draco whispered back.

Despite Draco's firm grip, Blaise closed his eyes and smiled easily, as if lost in memory.

"I guess I do."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scratch her last wish. Her current wish was, "_Please let lightning strike me down, then a hole appear on the stage for my dead body to fall in and have it close up and may no one ever find my body for all of time!._"

Again, if not for Parvarti's meticulous make-up job, Hermione would have slapped her hand to her face, hopefully covering it from the world.

WHY was this happening?

How did things come to this? Rather than be pleased that the two were bidding fiercely on her, she was mortified.

Utterly **_mortified_**.

If they were just any old blokes bidding on her, she would have been ecstatic, but they weren't. They were Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Two of the most highly coveted men at the Gala tonight. Things were already bad whenever Harry and Ron were around her, but the public forgave her because of their long history together as The Trio. But with these two….. they were handsome, single, rich, aristocratic, untouchable. What would be their reason to bid on her?

The public would eat her alive. Especially the women. It would already be assumed they were bidding on her for reasons such as pity or more believable, some sort of sick, twisted wager. That was embarrassing enough – to be bid on for something other than the desire for her. Add onto that the annoyance everyone would feel, knowing they had chosen HER for their attentions and she was toast. They hadn't even bid on ANYONE the whole night. Only her.

Oh, she was **dead**.

Everyone stopped eating, stopped dancing – they all focused their attentions to the front of the stage. During Blaise and Draco's impasse, the chattering grew louder. If words were able to solidify into pin pricks, Hermione would surely have been turned into an old voodoo doll by now.

"Er, I hear 1,000! 1100 folk, 1100 Galleons? Okay, 1,000 Galleons going once, going twice – "

While the two were sorting out whatever they needed to sort out, at the moment they didn't seem to be talking at all, a clear, gruff voice rang:

"2,000 Galleons!"

The room, yet again, gasped. All eyes shifted to where the voice came from. There, at the edge of where the seats were, stood Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Hermione eyes widened, a huge smile forming on her face. She could recognize that voice anywhere. "Harry!" she shouted out, unable to help herself

He winked, while Ron waved to the crowd with a laughing smile, amused at the attention they were getting. The two men in tuxedos began marching down the aisle, ready to claim her. Their gait was leisurely, an easy strut with one hand in their elegant pockets.

"SOLD! Sold to Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ron Weasley, for 2,000 Galleons!" The auctioneer squealed, pointing his gavel at the pair as the stopped at the front of the stage.

"Wait just one minute!" Draco's deep voice piercing through the applause. Him and Blaise stood up, their stance guarded.

"Didn't you know?" Harry asked, looking back over his shoulder, his green eyes sparkling. "There's a 2,000 Galleon limit to each woman at the auction." He could help but bask in victorious glory.

At their obvious confusion, Ron had to laugh. "Come on Malfoy, Zabini. Are you saying neither of you got that memo sent out a few weeks ago telling you this? Or the flyer they were passing out near the door?"

They blinked. Obviously they didn't pick up the flyers – they were regulars to occasions like this. Those flyers were usually meant for first timers, greenhorns, and the nouveau-riche. They were like little fancy itineraries, but for those who were practically raised at galas, there wasn't much that could surprise them.

There was a memo?

"_I will find Farrell's useless, homeless body and emasculate him_," Draco thought fiercely, his eyes lit with inner fury.

The Ministry did a lot of number-crunching to come up with this insane price ceiling. The main reason for this was the increasingly dismal profits they were garnering from the past few years. It seemed that when there wasn't any limitation to what to give, people tended to be more stingy. However, with a somewhat reasonable limit of 2,000 Galleons, not only does it give people more confidence and security to bid, but it also left enough money in their pockets for them to bid again, if they so choose. When people knew they could only go so high, they were much more prone to engage in highly entertaining bidding wars.

The four men stood facing each other; Harry and Ron with smirking faces, Draco and Blaise with cool, unreadable expressions. What a sight they were – four handsome, famous men immaculately dressed, engaged in a stare-down.

Without another word, Hermione's best friends turned their backs on them and walked up onto the stage, their faces breaking out into a genuine smile as she rushed towards them, fancy dress be damned. She squealed as she launched herself at them, throwing one arm around each.

"You bloody bastards!" she cried, laughing hard. "Had to have a flair for dramatics, did you?"

Ron chuckled, spinning her as Harry looked on. "What can we say, it was right hilarious to see you look a bit peaky there."

She smacked them both half-heartedly on the arm. "You shouldn't have though, now what are people going to say?"

"They're going to think, 'Damn I wish I were best mates with the greatest blokes in the world!'" Harry supplied. "Would you rather we feed you to the wolves?"

Hermione's face fell before she collected herself. She wagged her finger at them. "But what will your dates think? You shouldn't have wasted all your money on me!" she scolded.

In response to that, they merely pointed behind them, leading her vision to where Ginny and Lavender stood. Hermione's smile returned, even larger when she saw them smiling, giving her a great big thumbs-up. There was no way they wouldn't support Hermione. She was the rock that held them together, that always made them feel welcomed. Besides, Gryffs stick together!

Ron's infuriated date was a little ways away from the girls, turning her back to both them and the stage. Her arms were crossed and she had a highly vexed look on her face. Ginny enthusiastically gave the finger to her back while Lavender laughed on. Hermione snickered, moved nearly to tears. She really did have the greatest friends.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the auction was over, everybody moved towards the tables and the dance floor to enjoy the rest of the evening. As Harry and Ron bent their heads over the folder on Hermione's lap that held all the possible locations, she couldn't help but see across the way that Draco was with Mindee.

Hermione blinked with surprise; she was positive the look Mindee gave him at the party was one of the broken-hearted. Apparently they haven't split up yet. In any case, her sympathy for her grew. Poor dear looked positively desperate. Here Mindee's date drew attention to himself by bidding on her of all people, proving what an insignificant amount of influence she held over him. Hermione could tell Mindee was doing her damndest to attract his attention, knowing that if nothing changed very, very soon, she really was through.

To an outsider's eye, they looked happy enough. They were sitting there, lightly talking over their dinners. Many women looked at them with an enviable sigh, most likely wishing they were in Mindee's shoes. But Hermione knew better. Watching Draco, she saw him barely looking at her, the disinterested look in his eyes. Mindee's time was almost up.

Looking at Malfoy, she wondered again why he bid on her. Even though it was mostly likely for a prank or was just trying to egg Blaise on so he'd spend money, Hermione couldn't help but soften her gaze a little. Regardless, he tried to save her from an embarrassing ending.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

Sometimes.

Suddenly Harry stood up and grabbed Lavender. "Come on Lav, they're playing our song!" he said with boyish charm, eliciting her famous giggle.

Ron, not to be beaten, looked around and found a pretty woman with thick, deep brunette hair eyeing him. He grinned. "I'll see you in a bit, 'Mione."

She sighed with good humor and waved him off as he worked his charms on her. In almost seconds they too went off to the dance floor, along with almost everybody else. The band was playing quite a popular, nostalgic song.

Hermione, content with sitting, looked around. She saw Ron's date (whom she was guessing severed all ties to him by now) flirting rather shamelessly and drunkenly with a young, scared waiter. She shook her head. Well, all for the better she supposed. Ron would have broken up with her sooner or later. She scanned the opposite wall and saw Ginny surrounded by three enthralled men – her grin borderline hungry. Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes.

But then she made the mistake of looking at the dance floor and all the dancing couples. She had the bad luck to look upon Alex and Amelia, dancing like they were floating on clouds. Hermione then accidentally locked eyes with Alex and she quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed. Oh no, hopefully she didn't show anything on her face. She has been told her face was like an open window.

Okay, now she kind of had the urge to dance, if not to look like such a loser. Her eyes drifted towards Blaise, who was easily chatting with a few women, obviously vying for his attentions. Hermione blushed. Well, of course he wouldn't ask her to dance. He looked quite in his element over there. She sighed. She shouldn't think too much about his bid – he was probably just a really nice bloke who would do the same thing, had anyone else looked like they were going to die from a heart attack up there.

"Let's go, Granger," Malfoy said from behind her. She turned around, surprised to find he hadn't already taken to the floor. He held out his gloved hand, not really looking in her eyes. She stood up, hesitantly. "I'm willing to risk the scuffing of my shoes for this dance, so please show a little gratitude." Only a Malfoy could turn a request for a dance into something imperious and snooty.

Still on her guard, Hermione stepped slowly towards him. She eyed him funny. "What's going on with you, Malfoy?

He merely shrugged, his white-blonde hair temporarily falling over his eyes before he brushed it back. "You just looked positively tragic," he said, eyeing her up and down. Why did Hermione feel like she should be covering her body if his words were his usual fare of insults? "Since I couldn't make you indebted to me during the auction, the least I can do is to save you the mortification and have a dance with you."

And for some reason, she could explain why, her heart skipped. Malfoy always talked in code, rarely did he say anything straight unless it was something harsh. But she figured this was one of his rare, nice gestures. Hermione smiled brilliantly, looking up at him. Draco's eyes flashed briefly, but she didn't notice. With an impish smile, she lifted her nose and declared, "Then I grant you the pleasure of this dance." She delicately placed her small hand in his.

With a slow smile, he firmly grasped her hand and led her to the dance floor. He turned her so they faced each other and they assumed the traditional dance position. She placed her left hand on his shoulder as his arm supported hers from underneath, resting his hand directly below her shoulder-blades, as etiquette demanded. Their hands gently yet firmly grasped each other, his large hand nearly enveloping hers.

They began dancing – one two step one two step – swishing effortlessly around the dance floor. Obviously Draco was the better dancer, but Hermione was a fast learner and picked up the steps fairly well. He was excellent at leading, never too forceful, but always able to make her do what he wanted her to.

Hermione could feel his muscles rippling underneath his rich, black suit. She wouldn't be very surprised if it turned out he was the same shape, if not better, as he was during the War. She didn't know how he did it. She tried to curb her indulgence to a certain extent, but she didn't fight for her life just to starve herself. Hermione wouldn't call herself chubby, but stick-thin model she was not.

He felt tense. She wasn't sure if this was how he normally danced, but he seemed bent on keeping their bodies as far apart as decorum allowed. So he didn't want much to do with her, understandable.

Then why was her heart pounding? It was strange. She too felt like pulling away, but at the same time, something deep inside her felt warm. Like she wanted to rest her body against him. Hermione instantly stiffened, glancing up at his expressionless face before looking away.

"_Don't be such a ninny_," she scolded herself. He was only dancing with her for show. She chalked everything she felt, everything she was feeling, up to the champagne she drank before the dance. And dancing with your eternal nemesis was just plain weird. That was why she felt the need to extract herself from his arms.

She looked up again, feeling his eyes on her. His face was unreadable, but…..she could've sworn his eyes were a much darker color than his normal silver. They were a dark gray, tinged with purple.

Was it the lighting?

Before she could dwell on this more, Blaise approached them, swinging his arm around Draco's shoulders, forcing them to stop dancing. "_Scusi_, but would you mind terribly if I cut in?" he asked smoothly, talking to Draco but keeping his eyes on Hermione.

Hermione was surprised Blaise wanted to cut in, wanted to dance with **her**. However, she was not as surprised as when she saw the look on Draco's face. His body tensed considerably more, tightening his grip on her hand. It was his expression.

For a moment she thought that he actually wasn't going to let her go.

But of course that was nonsense. Draco let go of her with a playful air, throwing his arms up in defeat. "She's all yours, mate. Careful, she'll step on your shoes."

"I do NOT – " she was cut off when she was whisked into Blaise's arms and she watched Malfoy's retreating back. Hermione flushed. "I didn't step on his feet. I don't step on feet," she said sullenly, looking at him with a defensive air.

Blaise laughed easily. It was a nice laugh. "I believe you," he said, still smiling. "Draco wasn't born with charm, he had to cultivate it over many painstaking years. It looks like he still hasn't gotten the gist of it yet."

At this Hermione had to grin as she was spun gently and back. "And I suppose you were born with charm pouring out of your ears?"

He merely winked. "Those are your words, _cara_, not mine."

As they danced, Hermione came to the conclusion that dancing with Blaise was one hundred times more uncomfortable than dancing with Malfoy. She couldn't understand it. Blaise was also a natural-born dancer, but unlike Draco, he was very relaxed and had no qualms with touching her.

So why was it that she wanted to tear herself away from his arms?

With Malfoy, sure, she felt jittery, but it was unlike what she felt in Blaise's arms. She literally felt like running as fast as she could out the door. And her heart was beating so fast. Too fast to be mistaken for "ooh I have butterflies and fireworks in my tummy because I luuurve him!" feelings. It took the sheer willpower of her mind to keep her planted in his arms.

She shouldn't feel like this. He wasn't a threat. He was sweet, charming, friendly. He was gliding her gently across the floor, his touch never too firm nor too faint. They would occasionally meet eyes and they would smile at each other. It couldn't have gotten any better than that.

But it was painfully confusing for Hermione. She would find herself twitching, trying to stop herself from wrenching herself away. She took a deep breath. "_Think about it rationally, Hermione_," she thought to herself. Let's look at the facts.

There, she got it. He was handsome, famous and a good lot of women were glaring at her. Why wouldn't her fight-or-flight reaction go off? She was so….well, plain and he was not. She was embarrassed for herself AND for him. He was different from Harry and Ron because she knew them inside and out, they were her best friends. He was different than Malfoy because she hated him. Or at the very least, constantly annoyed with him. Blaise was none of these. He was practically a stranger, but he treated her with respect and kindness.

Thus, in conclusion, therefore, hence, ergo – she felt uncomfortable.

Now that wasn't so hard, was it. Just knowing the stem of her problem led her to relax more. It was then she noticed he was looking at her as they danced. It wasn't in a bad way, but it was….analytical. Quizzical. Like her face held some sort of puzzle he wished to solve. Hermione looked at him, with question in her eyes. He quickly broke his gaze and merely smiled, his teeth bright.

It was then the music ended on a high, lilting note. The couples parted and they all applauded lightly and politely. Blaise turned to her and thanked her for the wonderful dance. Hermione blushed and shook her head; she couldn't even form in words that it should be HER thanking him.

When the next song struck up, they were making their way back to the table when Blaise took the opportunity to try to arrange a more private meeting.

"…there's a lovely little hole-in-the-wall bistro just opposite Diagon Alley, if you'd like to go," he said softly.

But Hermione's attentions lied elsewhere for the moment. As they were walking away, she couldn't help but notice, over Blaise's shoulder, Dame Griselda Denela had finally arrived and locked her sight onto Draco already.

Hermione was too far to actually listen in on the conversation, but just by looking at his face she could tell he too understood the desire of instant flight. He was trying his hardest to back away without insulting the fragile woman, but you could tell she would have none of it. She kept on taking one more step towards him, her eyes gleaming of untold romantic horrors. Like a stalking puma to its delicious prey.

Trying as hard as she could, Hermione couldn't completely suppress the snicker of laughter escaping her throat. She covered her mouth with her hands, hiding her smile. Noticing her attention was no longer on him, he asked, "What's going on, _cara_?"

Damn Italians and their easy-going, flirtatious nature. Hermione was determined not to look the virginal youth she SO was. So instead of again painting her cheeks red, she merely tilted her chin in the Draco direction. She **_swore_** she saw a bead of sweat forming on his temples. Dame Griselda was practically drooling with lust.

Understanding immediately, Blaise laughed, loosening his tie slightly. "Ah, I see. His gift."

"And his curse," Hermione finished impishly.

Draco Malfoy was not known to have many weaknesses, especially when it came to women. He'd like to think of himself as an expert both in dealing with women as well as getting them. There were however, exceptions to the rules.

Dame Griselda was one of them.

In Hermione's opinion, she was probably the only woman Draco was, "scared bat shitless" of. And of course, Hermione savors every moment of their delusional courtship.

The Denela house was prone to, let's just say, interesting bloodlines. No one quite knew if it was because of the breeding or just their choice in mates, but there was always an interesting quirk to each and every one of them. The women were notorious for being wanton, aggressive love machines. While not all that scary on its own, it IS scary, however, when a Denela woman 78 years of age targets you as the object of her affection. And Malfoy was locked on. Griselda will stop at nothing to have him as her cabana boy, a job description he definitely did not desire.

Dame Griselda discovered him last year at the Ministry Gala, coming back from a twenty-year hiatus living in Scotland. Of course he stood out from the crowd – not too many men his age had such soft, light-colored blonde hair naturally and was so tall. He was like a beacon of light.

At the end of the night, when the lights were dimmed down low, Hermione saw, much to her utter delight, Malfoy somehow backed into a corner with Griselda ready to pounce. Then the most ridiculous series of events occurred.

With no pretense, Griselda suddenly, unabashedly made a grab for his crotch. It was only thanks to his lightning fast reflexes was he able to barely avoid her grabby hands. She was immediately pressed against him, fervently attempting to feel him up, hold him down, and lick the side of his face at the same time.

Malfoy's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head in pure fear. It was quickly replaced by frightened determination, as he tried to pry her off as quickly and efficiently as possible, yet still adhering to class. It was ingrained in him to never hit a woman, much less an elder woman from such a old house. So Hermione was graced with the sight of a frantic Malfoy, waving his arms back and forth like some retarded bird. He was fighting against his instinct to shove her away with a force that could break plywood, his mind forcing his arm back in order to adhere to decorum.

It was **_hilarious_**.

Finally, finally, she saw a chink in his otherwise cool, steady armor of emotion and demeanor. Finally, Malfoy's feathers were ruffled. Ruffled, groped, and molested.

It was….it was……

**_Delicious_**.

Rarely did Hermione get an opportunity like this, to have something to hold over his head. So delighted was she that Hermione began cackling from across the room like a Macbeth hag. She couldn't stop. She **wouldn't** stop. It was one of the greatest days of her life. She had to brace herself on a table in order to not fall to the ground, rolling with laughter.

When everybody was getting into carriages to go home for the night, Hermione was roughly grabbed from behind as she was about to enter one. There a desperate and highly disturbed Draco swore Hermione to secrecy. In order to get home all the quicker, she agreed.

Of course, the next morning everybody knew about it.

In intimate detail.

It had been awhile since she last saw him boil with such rage, such embarrassment. For the next week they sent hexes back and forth whenever they could. Finally their feud ended when a Medusa-haired Hermione walked into his office, oddly triumphant looking. Malfoy was nervous. She shouldn't have looked so pleased after his hex had taken effect.

She declared that he could hex her for all he was worth, but in the end they only last a few hours, whereas people's memories lasted **forever**.

No matter how much he punished her, he couldn't undo the damage she had done, nor make her regret her decision. It was again, the rare occasion where he conceded out-rightly. With her victory ensured, a giddy Hermione crowed that perhaps her new snake-hair could assist her in her research; perhaps the venom from their fangs could be used as some sort of anti-agent.

With that, she bid him a cheery _adieu_, but not before swatting away at one of the hissing snakes dangerously close to her throat. She wasn't even scared. She skipped out of his office, leaving a shuddering man.

Back to present day, Hermione's face had a huge grin while looking back on the good ol' days. She could feel the familiar cackle bubbling from her diaphragm, but in light of his recent, not-so-horrid behavior, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Even if the look on his face was priceless.

She sighed, her decision made. Damn her, she was just too nice for own good. She turned to Blaise, her eyes apologetic. "Sorry Blaise, could we finish this some other time? I'm about to do something very stupid and Gryffindor. You better stand back."

Before he could respond, she was already walking confidently towards the two. All Blaise could do was let out a sigh and shrug.

"Dame Griselda? Oh my, I was wondering when you'd arrive!" Hermione chirped loudly as she reached them, her face overly jovial. "Things just aren't the same without you!"

Griselda spared a precious second to look at who was talking to her, all too ready to return to the business at hand. No pun intended. But when she saw who was talking to her, she instantly released him to grasp Hermione's hands.

"Hello my dear! It has been ages! So sorry I wasn't able to write – trips to Africa are **so** tedious, absolutely dreadful for keeping communications! How are you, my lovely?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with motherly kindness. Through some strange twist of fate, Dame Griselda actually, against all predictions, was quite fond of Hermione. The reasons were unknown, but she always treated Hermione with loving affection.

While they engaged in animated small talk, Hermione managed to situate herself between Griselda and Draco. Behind her back, her hands were seemingly clasped demurely, but in reality, they were frantically shooing Draco, indicating he should high-tail his ass out of there while she had her distracted.

Draco was confused at her act of kindness, not even noticing her subtle signal. By the time he realized what she was doing and was about to bolt out of there, the Dame unfortunately refocused her energy on him.

"Drakie dear, wherever are you going, ducky? We have so much to catch up on, come, let me take you to somewhere more……ssssss…private," her attempt at hissing sexily was met with Malfoy's near vomiting.

Hermione gritted her teeth. That stupid wanker! Couldn't he react faster? Soldier reflexes her arse! She rolled her eyes. She had hoped it wouldn't have to resort to this, but it seemed she had no choice.

He better be **damned** grateful.

"And where is your beautiful daughter, Jolie? I haven't seen her all evening!" Hermione attempted to say in a chipper voice, hoping to keep the dread out of her tone.

All thoughts of Draco temporarily flew out the window.

"_Jolie_? Oh my, you're wondering if – you – you think she's beautiful! Well, I – she'll be so delighted to – she's here somewhere, let me get her, wait right here, lovely!" she practically cried out in happiness. Dame Griselda was beside herself as she quickly dashed to find her daughter.

Hermione quickly turned to Draco, her voice pained. "Go, hide! Don't let my sacrifice be in vain!"

Draco hesitated for a millisecond before dashing off. "Godspeed Granger," he hurriedly called out over his shoulder as he quickly made scarce.

Oh, she was going to need it.

"HERMIE!" a loud, screeching voice cried with abandon.

She cringed. Then forced a watery smile on her face. "H-Hullo, Jolie, you…uh…you look……great."

And then she was attacked into a major bear-hug by a decently-looking yet definitely deranged young woman.

"Oomf!" Hermione grunted at the force. She gingerly patted her hands on the girl's shoulders before wheezing out, "I-I can't…breathe…."

"Oh, you're always so silly!" Jolie said giddily, smacking Hermione's arm playfully.

"Ha..ha…," she said weakly, rubbing the spot she was just attacked on.

"Oh ho ho ho, well, I'll just leave you two alone then, shall I? Dear dear, where did ducky go?" Dame Griselda said with proud excitement before going off to search for the lust of her life.

Jolie quickly attached herself onto Hermione's arm, snuggling her face on her biceps. Hermione tried not to shiver with displeasure. Was it too late to change her mind about being a noble Gryffindor?

"Aren't you going to ask me about my visit to St. Mungos these past few months?" Jolie pouted, lightly tracing patterns on Hermione's collarbone. Hermione squeaked, freezing up.

Yes, it was too late.

"Er….," she managed to gurgle.

"Never mind that, come on, let's go sit somewhere so we can be Jolie said slyly, licking her lips deliberately. Hermione nearly felt her soul leaving her body through her mouth.

"S-sure," she said weakly, allowing herself to be dragged across the room.

Like mother, like daughter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later on in the evening, Hermione was extremely, extremely close to madness. At the moment, she was sitting down on a bench near a wall somewhere, with Jolie practically draped over her. Hermione was sitting with a ramrod straight back, her hands clenched together and in her lap. Her shoulders were hunched, no doubt due to the stiff way she was keeping her arms. And her legs were firmly held together, thank you very much.

If looking like a complete ball of tense nerves wasn't an indication that she was uncomfortable, the beet-red color currently gracing her face should be a dead give-away.

Girls like Jolie shouldn't be allowed to talk so dirty in such a nice, elite accent. It was unnerving. She was whispering dirty, naughty, scandalous things of what she dreamed about doing with Hermione, to Hermione; murmured her wicked desires of what she felt right now, what she wanted to do to her.

Okay, okay, when she was complaining in her diary about not having any fun with all the sexy, naughty things adults do……she meant…..well….she meant…with a **_bloke_**.

"_Must….find….escape….!"_ was all Hermione could think of at the moment. Her eyes darted wildly, trying to find salvation. Her attention was suddenly, acutely, on her knee. More specifically, on her knee and slowly, slowly, upwards…up her thigh, up to –

"Woah!" Hermione yelped, jumping back in shock. Jolie managed to grab her and kept her firmly in place. She placed a well manicured finger on Hermione's plump lips.

"Shhhhh darling, people will hear us," she said naughtily, letting her hand once again being its trek up her leg.

At first Hermione tried gently, subtly pushing Jolie's hand from wandering too far up her thigh. As this did not detour her, she resorted to frantically slapping then pushing away her hand only to have Jolie's hand slide up in a warped game of Patty cakes.

Slap push sliiide

Slap push sliiiide

Slap push slide slap push slide slappushslideslappushslideslappushslide

Hermione leaped to her feet, back away, holding her arms to her chest in hopes of protecting her womanly goods. "Jolie, please…I-I think you're taking things a little bit to….uhm…I mean, not that I…that is to say…," she stammered, trying to communicate her utter disinterest and blatant creeping out of.

Jolie just tittered, once again enveloping Hermione into a tight hug. She tried not to sigh – it could be mistaken for one of passion and enjoyment.

Heaven forbid.

"You know," Jolie mumbled in her ear, yet again. What was with the Denela's and their obsession with talking in ears! "I've been telling you all night, but you really are so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. I wonder why more men aren't lusting over your right this instance."

"Er, thank you, Jolie, that's very sweet of you but – "

"You know what else I love about you? You're sooo modest," she paused to stroke Hermione's neck. Her eyes bulged but otherwise made no sudden movements. "But yes, why is it no one else is appreciating your beauty like they should? Then again, men are very, very stupid. That's why I hate them and love women…."

This had gotten to the point where Hermione was ready to close shop and just make a run for it. Yes, that was it, just throw some excuse, like bathroom break, and then before she knows it, she'll be miles away. As she was ready to implement her rash plan, she saw Draco marching up to them, with Mindee in tow. His eyes were clear and determined, meaning that he had a plan. The Calvary has arrived! Never had he looked so beautiful to Hermione.

"Jolie, I was wondering where you disappeared to this whole time," he said heartily. Jolie managed to pry her face away from Hermione's neck long enough to give him a long look. She only tolerated him because of her mother.

"Yes, so if you'll excuse us," she said snappishly, turning back to Hermione, all smiles.

"Let me introduce to you Mindee Case, recent addition to the Ministry. Mindee, Jolie Denela," he continued, never missing a beat. He took Mindee's hand and pulled her up to Jolie.

Her eyes quickly devoured Mindee and her Barbie-good looks. She smiled, showing all her teeth as Mindee shifted her eyes nervously, too desperate to speak a word against Draco. Jolie stepped forward, then with a guilty look to Hermione, quickly whispered in her ear, "Hermie, you know you're the only one for me, but…..oh, please! Let me scratch this one insignificant itch and I'm all yours!"

With that, Jolie practically tackled Mindee and dragged her onto the dance floor where the band began striking up the last song of the night. Hermione, amazed at what just happened, could only let out the deep breath she was holding and collapsed back onto the bench. She placed a hand over her heart, feeling it beat like a hummingbird. Or a gerbil.

Draco looked down at her with almost pity. She managed to shake herself out of her stump and began righting her gown and patting down her hair. Then, she managed the smallest of smiles, directed at Malfoy.

"So, are we even?" she asked with a growing grin. "If at all possible, I'd rather not be indebted to the likes of you."

"For now," he merely replied with a smirk.

For awhile they both looked on in silence as Jolie began snuggling with Mindee, Harry dancing with Ginny, Ron with Lavender. Even Blaise was dancing with some beautiful Spanish dignitary's daughter. Draco and Hermione looked at each other simultaneously. He once again held out his hand, this time ungloved, Hermione noticed.

"Well, Head Girl? Might as well do one last dance, yeah?"

She shrugged and put her hand in his once more. "I suppose so, Head Boy. Except this time, let's not hex any first years, shall we?" His hand was warm yet rough.

He chuckled. "I'll try my best."

As they were dancing, she noticed this time he was much more relaxed, easily moving against her body. She looked at him, an inquisitive look on her face. "Malfoy, have you been drinking or something?"

"Something," he replied unhurriedly, his eyes lazily lidded.

Suddenly Hermione gasped. Draco was languidly dragging his ring finger up and down the curve of her exposed spine.

She shivered, tightening her grip on his shoulder and hand. His finger was like electricity.

"You really do give this dress justice, Granger," his voice soft, husky. He began toying with her pearls, his knuckles occasionally brushing against her smooth back.

Frozen with confusion, Hermione looked up at him in bewilderment, only to notice it wasn't the trick of the lighting – his eyes really have darkened. He didn't avert them when she stared into them with wide eyes. Instead it seemed like he relished the connection.

He was giving off a strange vibe. It was thick, invasive, heavy. It was like he was trying to look **_into_** her.

Instinctively, Hermione began to pull away to get some distance, to try to figure out what was happening. But he wouldn't let her. Draco firmly pulled her back, snaking his arm around her waist, his hand gripping her hips tightly. As she was pressed firmly against him, his hand clenched, intertwining her fingers with his.

Hermione couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move. She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her mouth.

She wanted to run. She didn't want him to let go. Her face was burning. Her heart was pounding. She was dizzy. His body was so _warm_.

"M-Malfoy…"

Why Why him 

Why was he –

Without warning she was ripped away from his arms and into the cool arms of Harry.

"'ello luv!" he announced, cherubically merry, twirling her round and round.

"H-Harry!"

"Don't mind if I cut in, do you? Ginny, he's all yours!"

"Cheers Draco, do me the honors?" Ginny asked playfully, blocking his path. "It seemed I was abandoned by my dancing partner. He has a habit of doing that."

Draco glared at Hermione's direction but quickly schooled his manners to that of a perfect gentleman. "If course, Ginerva. I never thanked you properly for your great service that one night. Allow me to show you the extent of my gratitude." And with that, they began to dance, albeit a tad stiffly, as Ginny sometimes took the lead and whirled Draco around so he wasn't facing Hermione.

"You didn't dance with us all evening! In a bit you're all Ron's, so let's make the most of this eh?" Harry was a whirlwind of chatter and good cheer, it seemed. He was spinning her and dragging her all across the crowded floor.

"Are you foxed?" Hermione asked, a bit sternly. She tried to sniff his breath but couldn't smell anything incriminating.

"Just a smidge, nothing to worry about – oi! Watch where you're touching my wife!" he yelled good naturedly to Ron across the way.

Ron laughed. "I didn't complain when you were dancing with my sister, mate!"

"Well, SOMEone please touch me inappropriately, I'm terribly bored," Lavender teased.

"In a minute darling, then I'll make your mind explode," he replied back.

"Ugh, Harry, please! We're in a public place," Hermione interjected, temporarily forgetting Draco.

"Makes it all the more exciting, I say," Ron answered, ignoring the looks they were getting from the other couples, dancing _silently_,

If distracting her was their goal, they succeeded tremendously, for not long after, Hermione was joking and laughing with them like nothing happened. When there appeared to be a lull in the conversation, she took the chance to rest her head on Harry's broad shoulders.

With her eyes closed, she prayed. "_I wish for uneventful times just like these_."

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Harry and Draco were glaring icicles at each other as the music played on. The air crackled.

* * *

Woot! I guess this update wasn't so late, probably due to the fact that I already had a pretty detailed summary for the whole Gala episode, so it was only a matter of filling in the blanks. Well, did you like it? Hate it? Let know and why! Seriously, I'm so grateful for your reviews. Always flattered when you leave a note, ALWAYS. Because I know I'm notoriously bad at leaving reviews (read: SnowFlakeImp is lazy), so to have you actually go through the trouble and review – well, let's just say I bow down to you all.

Some translations (be warned again, I don't speak French nor Italian, these were pulled from the web so correct me for errors):

amico friend (Italian)

mon ami friend (French)

connasse bitch (French)

scusi excuse me (Italian)

cara dear (Italian)

Sorry if it seems pretentious to keep dropping foreign words in their speech, but aristocrats of their pedigree probably are quite fluent in at least a few languages – no doubt they're used to mixing the languages. Besides, I think it's sexy when a man talks in another language (so long as it's second-nature and not trying to be some showoff jackass).

Hope you didn't find the whole wine bit too boring either – just recently started to appreciate wine and took a wine tour in Napa Valley and such. So hurray for a little research for authenticity's sake!

No offense was intended to anyone who is gay/lesbian when I portrayed Jolie Denela – I just needed a silly character to help move the story along. She is in no way an indication of any kind of prejudice. The character could have been male, but I figured poor Hermione, already with all these guys around her – she needed something a little bit more left-field to freak her out a bit.

Did you see how I worked in the word uneventful? Ha ha ha. I'm having second thoughts about the title of my fic, but when I first wrote it, it was on a whim and I wasn't thinking all this dark, back-story crap.

WARNING: Just to let folks know, uh, this chapter is probably as fluffy as it's going to get. Thought I should warn you. For those of you who are reading purely for comedy, light-heartedness, and fluff, I would savor this chapter as much as possible. It's kinda down-hill from here, though I'll try to transition it slowly.

Next chapter: a few things will be answered (or at the very least, a lot of light shed upon them) and our very first appearance of smut! YAY! 10 chapters later! Talk about taking one's time, eh? Haha I'm nervous about the smuttiness. Never written it before, hopefully it won't be too horrendous and some of you will feel naughty tingles. Or not. Whatever. Toodles!


	11. Apologies and Memories

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: You know what I hate? I totally hate it when people like, come up to me on the streets or email me, gushing and praising me all the time about how awesome I am for writing and creating Harry Potter. I mean, people please. Control yourselves. …also, I am full of shit. I own nothing.

* * *

Diary Entry No. 54, Vol. V

Remember when I may have mentioned, perhaps offhandedly, that my life was shit? It was a pretty brief remark, easily overlooked. Understandable, really.

Well, prepare to be amazed. For the first time, my life is actually not shit. It's not terribly in danger. It's not ridiculously stressed with academics. It's…..It's…..

**Bizarre**.

Confoundedly so. The 'wrinkle-your-brow-this-one's-a-tickler' kind of bizarre. Every time I stop to think about my current situation, I pause and I squint my eyes doubtfully, as if questioning reality. I ask, "Really? **_Really_**. This is what you're going for. This is the decision you're making. Really."

I thought the oddity of the Gala was a one-time thing, I really did. Maybe it was the atmosphere, with the food and the décor and costumes – it could compel a person do strange things.

But it **_followed_** me.

More specifically, Blaise Zabini followed me.

I mean, a girl can't complain, right? What a perfect equation he is. He's absobloodylutely gorgeous, he's sweet, he's thoughtful, he's charming, he's successful. He's -

I think he's interested in **me**.

ME.

Something about THIS part of the equation isn't adding up. Logically, it doesn't make sense. He's supposed to go for the legging, busty, sexy, gorgeous type with flowing, luscious locks of hair and a perfectly made-up face. You know, a Malfoy kind of girl.

Alright, I **do** have a lot of hair, if you want to be technical about it but that's not the point. The point is, his type isn't supposed to mingle with my type. I could be wrong, of course. This could all be some sort of silly, embarrassing misunderstanding. He could be, you know….friendly-like.

It's just that sometimes I catch him looking at me and I don't know if it's because of his amazing eyes, but I feel like they're **burning** me. And for the past two weeks, I've had four lunches, two dinners, two teas, and numerous conversations and encounters with him, either at the Ministry or on the streets. That can't all be coincidence, can it? But then again, it's not like he declared his everlasting love for me. And he has never even tried to lie and call me pretty, so maybe he just wants a friend.

In any case, whether he wants a friend or something more, I can't say I don't like his attentions. The only time I feel uncomfortable is when he just….looks at me. Puzzled-like. If it turns out that he does fancy me (even writing this makes me let out a little laugh), I think I'd feel very odd. He's just too……perfect.

I don't deserve that.

* * *

Regardless of whatever Hermione's feelings for Blaise were, there was definitely a small change in her step. She walked with more confidence, like she was finally being acknowledged. And perhaps with him being such a positive influence in her otherwise dreary existence (mostly her doing, she does admit), she seemed happier.

She even did something quite out of character.

She bought new shoes. Expensive, full-priced, Italian black pumps. They were ridiculously nice; the heel was skinny and high and the shoe had just the right amount of sexy pointyness.

Hermione's not one to really appreciate her body, but even she had to say, the shoes made her legs look astronomically great. She even wore her nice, crisp white Oxford shirt and knee-skimming chocolate pencil skirt underneath her standard Robes to go with the shoes.

Oh, she was scandalous.

"_Seven long years…._," she thought wistfully, enjoying the clicking sound her shoes were making on the tiles. "_Seven years with those ugly shoes. I threw them into the bin along with last night's remains of supper_. _Whatever crazy thing shall I do next?_"

So pleased was she about her footwear she actually didn't really care too much when her co-workers took no notice, although a few thought she looked a bit different today. She just hoped those important to her could appreciate her subtle change.

"Ron!" she sing-songed. "You'll never guess what I did yesterday!" When she didn't receive an answer, she shrugged and opened the door to break room she knew he was in.

"Oh, Bill! What a pleasant surprise!" Hermione gasped, laughing as he engulfed her in a tight bear hug.

"Cheers, Hermione!" he greeted with a large grin. "I haven't seen you since Christmas!"

Hermione smiled, patting down her hair. "How's the family?"

"Oh, rowdy bunch of ankle-biters! I don't know how Fleur deals with them without getting a strand of hair out of place," he said, grabbing Ron around the neck and roughing up his hair. As the two roughhoused, Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Though the scars on his face had healed somewhat over time, his face was still obviously damaged from the attack.

Before really seeing Fleur's character, Hermione worried for his mental well being. That kind of attack could destroy even the most confident man's self-esteem, not to mention drive a loving woman away. But she stood her grounds, against all of their expectations. Who knew such a haughty beauty could actually have such strong moral grounds? Over the years, just like with Lavender, Fleur constantly amazed Hermione. Truth be told, Hermione admired her greatly.

With the birth of not only twins but also now two other children, Bill and Fleur were always busy with one thing or another. If not attending another parent-teacher conference, then it was making sure the little one wasn't causing considerable damage to their modest home. If their home life was surprisingly uneventful, Bill had his hands full as Senior Curse-Breaker in London for Gringotts. Fleur, seeing as how she became pregnant almost right after the War ended, she never landed a job and chose to stay home to make sure her children were brought up right. Nowadays, when she found the time and the right cause, she would occasionally help out the Department of International Magical Cooperation, serving as a translator and advisor for the International Magical Office of Law.

As the three continued their light-hearted conversation, Hermione couldn't help but twitch and fidget so. She twisted her body a bit this way and that, purposefully walking back and forth, towards and away from the two brothers, hoping at least Ron would realize she had new shoes.

Childish, she knew. But by God, wasn't it glaringly apparent she had these new, obviously un-Hermione-like shoes on? She cleared her throat, interrupting Bill teasing Ron about his current dilemma over choosing between two girls.

"Yes?" Bill asked.

"Well, do you two notice anything different about me today?" Hermione asked, looking especially at Ron. Her smile was sharp. She twirled around, modeling.

"_Oh bleedin' hell_," Ron thought to himself. There was something he was supposed to have noticed ages ago and he had no clue what it was. He was going to cock this all up, he just knew it.

"Er, your….hair looks…smashing?" he ventured.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Considering how thick her boy was, it should have been enough for him to notice she had let her hair down more lately. But this was old news. She wanted acknowledgment for the purchase of such obscenely decadent shoes. They weren't even on sale!

"Try again," she gritted out.

An awkward silence ensued. Ron loosened his collar. He had to guess correctly this time, or else he'd be in the doghouse for days. He shouldn't just throw anything out. Had to be educated and clever on this one.

Suddenly the door banged opened and a blur known as Malfoy rushed in, walking briskly past the trio without even a glace. His sights were on the coffee set on the table in the back. As he poured and stirred in his sugar, the silence grew even thicker.

Ron kept on shooting glances at Malfoy, hoping the man would have mercy for once in his life and jump in to say something, anything! to take the heat off him. Bill scratched his head, looking as though he was thinking hard but with an amused look on his face. Fleur pulled this on him many a time. Thankfully the one being interrogated wasn't him right now.

As Malfoy finished up he breezed past them but as a passing remark before exiting, he whistled. "Nice shoes, Granger."

The door closed behind him and Hermione threw up her arms with frustration, crying up in the air to no one in particular, "**THANK** you!" And with that, she left the room in a huff.

"Dammit!" Ron swore. He was going to kill Malfoy.

Bill just laughed.

* * *

A few hours later, during lunch hour, Ron couldn't find Hermione anywhere – not in the labs, not in her office. He figured she went out to lunch and continued on his way to Malfoy's office on Level 5. Let no one say that Draco Malfoy was just a rich boy that got by on looks; he worked harder than most of the people Ron knew. The man usually even worked through lunch, preferring to bring his food to his desk for maximum efficiency. Hell, even Hermione, the one he pegged as the most anally workaholic person alive, took most of her lunches outside.

As Ron neared Draco office, he heard the distinct, clear voice of his best friend. And she wasn't screaming. Instead, their tones suggested that they were engaged in….friendly chatter?

"….they _are_ quite nice, aren't they? I was surprised at how comfortable they were."

"You've picked a very nice brand, look at the sheen on top of the leather – that's quality," Malfoy murmured.

Were they talking about….the _shoes_??

"D'you think the heel is solid enough? I've never really worn anything this high, I'm scared I'll be walking down the hall one day and it'll snap on me," Hermione lamented.

Ron heard Malfoy scoff. "Of course they'll hold. You just have to make sure you're walking properly so the weight is evenly distributed down the middle."

"Are you suggesting I have an improper gait?"

"Are **you** ever not on the defensive? Merlin's balls, Granger, I was only – "

It was around this point Ron made it to his office, entering with a perplexed look on his face. He was greeted with the sight of Draco sitting behind his desk, absentmindedly scratching a few figures on a worksheet while eating from a tray of various cubed cheeses and crackers. Hermione was sitting quite comfortably atop his desk facing the door, swinging her legs carefreely. Whenever one of her feet swung up, she paused a little to re-admire her purchase.

"Oh, hullo Ron," she greeted easily, wiggling her foot at him.

"Yes yes, I see them, they're very nice," he grumbled, flushing. How was he supposed to know they were new and such a big deal?

"Good of you to pop by, Weasley," Draco said, looking up from his sheets. Hermione tried to sneakily pinch a cube of cheddar. Malfoy distractedly slapped her hand while opening his desk drawer. She tossed him a frown from over her shoulder and shook her hand to alleviate the sting.

Malfoy tossed some sort of letter to Ron, who expertly caught it between his index and middle fingers. "What's this?" Ron asked, flipping it over.

"You tell me," Draco responded, raising an eyebrow. "Care to tell me why such a crudely hexed invitation written on classic Weasley stationary made its way to my post? I pegged your lot to be more creative and frankly, more sophisticated in your pranks. This wouldn't even fool a first-year."

Ron groaned. "I TOLD Bill not to let the kids write out the invites."

"Which one, the blonde one with freckles or the red ones with freckles?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"Obviously the twins – I think blonde hair neutralizes any predilection for fun," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. Bill's second eldest, Joseph, seemed to him a painful mix of a prim Fleur and an uptight Percy.

"Oh Ron, they didn't!" Hermione said aghast. Thankfully she hadn't checked her mail yet.

"I think Bill and Fleur figured it would be a good exercise in learning how to be responsible," Ron mocked, chucking the invitation into the trash bin. "Good thing you didn't open it, I was just about to tell you two about it anyway. This year's at their place, so be sure to bring your own pillows."

"It" being the Weasley's annual End-Of-Summer Picnic-slash-Sleepover. It used to be held at The Burrow every year, but with most of the Weasley clan moved out, save Ron and Ginny, the site of the party moved from year to year.

"Lord…," Draco moaned.

"But what they lack in home amenities, they make up for in yard space. It's large enough to hold a Quidditch face-off, so what'd you say Malfoy? Hankering for a rematch?" Ron said excitedly.

"Oh no you don't," he warned. "I remember last time. Never call me a cheating wanker ever again. Weasley-blood is swimming with deceit."

Hermione and Ron shared a look and laughed. A few years back at the Burrow, Ron, Harry, Ginny, the Twins challenged Draco to a small game of Quidditch. George, Fred and Draco versus Ginny, Ron and Harry. It was disastrous. The twins, with their tendency to prank, completely betrayed Draco during the first five minutes of the game.

And Harry and Ron figured even if the twins decided to play a plain, clear-cut game, which was rarely, Malfoy was bound to cheat. They decided with Ginny's help to beat him to the punch and utilized blatantly illegal maneuvers and props to gain their point advantage. It ended with them unintentionally knocking Malfoy off his broom with a large rope held by Ginny and Harry flanking his sides.

Draco, muddy on the ground, cursed and swore at them until he lost his voice, which made him grudgingly accept Molly's coddling and her limitless herbal tea remedy. Though Molly had accepted Draco into her brood many years ago, he never really held a soft place in her heart until now. Something about wrapping a home knit scarf around a seething young man while making him drink his eighth cup of tea made him oddly lovable.

Ron always liked to point out whenever he could that that was when Draco first received his honorary "Mummy Hug." Molly loved to engulf her little ones with a hearty bear hug to her bosom. Draco blushes every time it was brought up while growling for Ron to close his bloody trap. Ron had a sneaking suspicion Draco actually enjoyed the hugs but would rather be tortured to death by nails than admit to it. Draco had a sneaking suspicion Ron was an idiot.

"I swear, the bats were Harry's idea," he said, trying to keep his chuckling to a minimum when Draco shot him a cold glare.

"I don't doubt that," he bit out. "Though I remember quite clearly **you** holding a crude shovel."

"To be fair, Ron said it was more for batting the snitch away rather than bashing your head in," Hermione interjected sweetly. Draco flashed her an insincere smile.

"So he says."

Hermione, quick as lightning, grabbed a slice of Brie and stuffed it gracelessly into her mouth. Malfoy let out a sound of indignation. While he was staring at her in shock she went back in for another slice.

Ron cleared his throat, even though he knew it was of no use. He decided to blaze through, regardless. "So yeah, if you bring your own pillow, I'm sure there's going to be enough room to house everybody –"

"Don't you dare eat another piece, Granger I mean it. Don't you – **_Don't_**!"

"Er, and you better bring a spare outfit, since all the kids are comin–"

"Give me that!"

"I just put that in my mouth! You're so disgusting - !"

"SINCE ALL THE KIDS ARE COMING AND YOU KNOW HOW THEY GET. Also, the food's going to be amazing this year, Mum's got this new pot where –"

He was once again interrupted by the sounds of slapping hands.

"Stop it! Let me eat in peace, you stingy beetle!"

"No! If you're going to be pinching my food, you might as well eat it properly. Now eat this cracker with that – no you don't – you eat this you eat this right **now**!"

"Get away! I hate sesame I won't eat – let go!"

"Just hold still while I – "

"Mmfph!"

"THIS NEW POT WHERE IT FLAVORS THE STEW oh you two are impossible STOP FAFFING ABOUT!!" Ron roared.

The two had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Hermione dolefully chewed on the cracker that was recently crammed into her mouth. Malfoy shot her a look. She swallowed. She dramatically shrugged her shoulders, indicating that the cracker wasn't all he made it out to be.

Ron sighed. He dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. "Blood and sand, I swear if you two don't tear each other apart I'll do it to the both of you."

"Please, Ronald, at least I'm not like a certain person back at Hogwarts that couldn't keep his fists away from another certain person," Hermione said airily, hopping off the desk easily.

"That was different," he grumbled, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "Why don't you go out and grab some real lunch? I need to talk tactics with Malfoy for the scrimmage."

"Who said that I was even coming?" Draco asked haughtily.

"Please, you come every year, digging your heels, swearing you're never coming back the next year," Ron said with a wave of his hand, walking up to his desk and taking a seat. "Besides, I don't care if Harry plays for Chudley, it's still damn embarrassing to be beaten by him."

"Now **that**, we can agree on."

Hermione could have just left it at that and exited without a hitch. She should have just left. Right when they put their heads together to discuss and talk in a secret language known only to Quidditch players. She should have left.

But her feet just wouldn't **_move_**.

He was like a magnet. Irresistible. Undeniable.

Despite whatever he said, whatever he felt, whatever he did, people were still drawn to him. Listened to him. Trusted him.

She felt that tingle of panic that was familiar to her all those years ago. It started at the pit of her stomach, dropping to her feet and then shoving up into her throat, rising up to the back of her eyes. Her breath quickened. Her heart pounded rapidly.

Look at him. Look at **_them_**.

It was so isolating. Wherever he went, people just couldn't help but look at him. Always to him. All else overshadowed.

What did people see in him?

What did they see in him that they couldn't see in _her_?

It was just like then. Hermione tried to rationalize. She tried to forget. She tried to let it go.

But she **_couldn't_**.

Just like then. Even Ron. Even Harry. They all went to him. Forgot about her. Didn't listen to her anymore. Always went to him for **_everything_**.

Hermione tried to leave. Her hand twitched towards the doorknob. But her feet were cemented. She couldn't tear her eyes away. Frightened that if she looked away, Ron would be lost to her forever.

Look at them talk. Look at that trust. That respect.

Ron was slipping away from her. They were all slipping away from her.

Because of **him**.

**_NO_**.

_**YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM FROM ME.**_

_**They're MINE.**_

_**He's MINE.**_

"He's – "

The two men turned. Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth, vainly trying to physically stop the flow of words from her lips. Trying to catch them in the air and shove them back down her throat.

Her eyes were wide, twitching. She fled.

They shrugged. Ron went back to looking at their crudely drawn diagram. Draco's head was down, as if he too were looking at it. His eyes stayed glued to the door.

Hermione ran until she shut the door to the lounge room. She collapsed on the soft couch. She held her head, clenching her wavy hair. She rocked back and forth, moaning.

No. No. No. **_NO_**.

She was **_past_** this. They **Purged** her. Didn't they?

Her hands slowly traveled down the side of her head, grasping her neck. Her left hand started to rub the back of her neck.

A flash of purple and black. Slowly, lines began appearing – a tattoo formed. A glowing shape of a tree-ring emerged, unique in its shape and pattern.

* * *

When the War was over and the Light won, the land was ravaged, the soldiers exhausted and despaired. Like most wars, this one was not fought by the whole community, but rather it was fought by only those who volunteered, mostly the young and naïve. There were two factions of the Light: the Ministry and the Order of Phoenix. The Ministry was the official army, with actual aurors and soldiers and order and disciple and veterans. The Order of the Phoenix was where all the young men and women flocked to, mostly those who had recently graduated from Hogwarts.

Of course, the Light had allies – the Giants, the Centaurs, foreign witches, wizards, mages, sorceresses. They had many allies. But adding up all that fought, they still made up a small percentage of the whole Wizarding community. Despite this, the whole magical world was scarred. Those that fought were so weary from their battle couldn't even find the joy to celebrate their victory.

To benefit the survivors of the War, the WWW was created and implemented – the Wizarding World Welfare organization. It consisted of high-level magic users who created a specific spell that would help everyone move on, to continue to live on. Happily. Unlike memory charms, this specific spell didn't cover or erase the traumatizing memories of War. Instead, it acted like a buffer between the events of the War and the present day.

Of course, most communities are able to live on and function after wars. That was how the world worked, how human nature worked. But it took a long time. People needed time to adjust, to accept, to move on.

But they didn't have the time.

They needed to quickly restructure, to rebuild – they had no time to hold each other and cry and scream and laugh through the dark times. This is where the Purge came in. Rather than making the people forget all their horrifying experiences, it softened the blow of the memories. Like what time can do, after perhaps years, perhaps half a lifetime worth of time. Nothing would be forgotten, no one's death would have been in vain and vanished from memories. People would learn from the past. But with the Purge, they would be able to move forward with these memories buried in the back of their minds, like something that happened a long time ago.

The Purge was administrated by the council of the WWW, a giant wave of crackling purple and black pouring over the entire Earth. Those who were deeply involved in the War had individual sessions. They received a special tattoo on the back of their necks that only appeared when pressed or strong emotions were present that concerned the specific War trauma. The tattoo, a cross between a unique tree-ring and a barcode, helped the WWW quickly and efficiently identify the person and their particular needs.

Purging oneself was optional, of course. There were those who never wanted their memories tampered with, no matter how lightly. Some said the pain helped them live on. Some said the pain was their punishment. Some just never wanted their senses dulled.

In any case, the Purge had some unexpected perks for the heroes of the War. For people like Harry Potter, life after the War, even if the Wizarding world moved on with the conventional way, he would never have been able to live a normal life. They would all be worshipped like heroes, unable to even go out to get a cup of coffee without getting accosted by admirers. It wasn't the kind of life they wanted, not after what then had been through. The Purge helped soften their impending celebrity status, enabling them to live a normal life, to go do whatever they pleased without the fear of being mobbed on the streets. This was why Harry was able to just be a Quidditch player, and Ron, Draco, and Hermione were able to pursue normal jobs at the Ministry without fanfare or scrutiny.

It was why Hermione was able to function to this day.

Or so she thought.

She should book an appointment with the WWW. This was insanity. This debilitating….**emotion** towards Malfoy was unacceptable.

Yes, she had issues with Malfoy, but she was over it. She thought it through, she deemed it childish and ugly. She knew it was only her unwillingness to let go of those emotions that prevented her from moving on. Her mind was over it, but it seemed her emotions were not as logical.

Hermione sighed and shook herself. Whether or not something went wonky with her Purge, she had to deal with it for the time being. She had to snap out of it. As she calmed herself down and opened the door, she accidentally bumped it into a passing figure.

"Oh, excuse me," she said softly, breaking out of her inner musings.

"It's alright," Alex said, with a slight smile. Hermione immediately smiled back.

"Hi Alex, working even during break?" she said, relaxing a little.

He nodded with a shrug of the shoulders. "You know how the Minister gets," he said with a wry grin. "But I don't mind, really. He always has such interesting Muggle theories."

Hermione had to laugh. Despite his vast intellect and love for the culture, Arthur was horrid at getting the facts straight when it came to Muggle devices. As the two were conversing good-heartedly, she breathed a mental sigh of relief. She was truly glad she was a complete coward and never confessed her feelings for Alex. By getting to know him better she discovered he wasn't the right man for her. It was all her little imaginations that really made her fall for him rather than her simply regarding him with platonic admiration.

Although, it was a pity he was taken and her interest in him waned. Now who would unburden her of all her lovey, virginal baggage?

And **_NO_**, Jolie Denela didn't count.

* * *

Hermione should have known her peaceful days wouldn't last.

An hour before she was freed for the weekend from her strenuous workload, a flustered and blushing Alex approached her office.

"Alex?" she asked, looking up.

Embarrassedly, not really meeting her eyes, he said, "Er, Hermione, that is, I don't really know how to say this…."

Although she hadn't truly known him until recently, she knew him enough to know that he rarely got flustered. She had a bad feeling about this.

Abashedly, he began awkwardly plowing through what he hoped was a coherent and gentle speech. Through his bumbling and ramblings and mutters, Hermione's heart nearly burst out of chest.

He **_knew_**.

There was no possible way he could have……that must mean that……..but that means somebody must have……but why..?

Someone must have told him and now he's trying to let her down gently!?

Shocked as she was, she had to take care of the situation at hand. Damage control took first priority. Now, contrary to popular belief, Hermione Granger was hardly an angel and was not above lying to preserve say, a fragile, burgeoning friendship. Not to mention saving face and pride. Even the Hermione at Hogwarts, the stickler to school rules that she was, wasn't all that scrupulous. The adventures she had with Harry and Ron could attest to that.

And the Hermione of now? After seeing hell and back, she could definitely lie if she wanted to. And right now, she really, **_really_** wanted to.

"Alex, please, wait a moment!" she interrupted with forced cheer. Alex looked at her quizzically. Hermione managed to laugh a giddy little trill. "As devastated as I am by your albeit lovely rejection, I'm afraid there must be some mistake."

"But…"

Hermione smiled gently. "Thank you, for being so considerate of my feelings. But honestly, I don't know where you got the ridiculous notion that I fancied you. I don't. Unfortunately, I only see you as a friend. I know, very tragic."

He looked more relaxed and composed, but there was still a look of doubt in his eyes. She panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm actually seeing someone at the moment. Er, Blaise Zabini!" Hermione cringed. She mentally sent a apology to the innocent party. "Yes, I very much fancy him, although for now we're nothing but friends."

Alex finally nodded, his face relieved and understanding. He did see the two together an awful lot since the Gala. And he did bid on her that night. After a few more firm words from Hermione, reassuring him that no harm was done and that their friendship was safe, Alex left the office, his heart light in his new understanding.

Hermione on the other hand, was fuming. She should have asked him who told him that she fancied him. But she didn't need to. Only one person would know of her feelings for him. She knew exactly whose fault this was. She marched into the lift, furiously jabbing the button to Level 5. She had no idea why he would do something so unexpectedly cruel to her, especially considering how relatively well they had been getting along recently. This was one of the worst things he had ever done to her. He had gone too far.

Before reaching the Level, she paused to take a deep breath, sighing in relief that she managed to save her arse from total embarrassment. She quickly sent up an apology to any deity who despised lying (mostly likely….ALL of them).

She launched into his office, beginning her tirade without preamble. "How dare you! I should've known better than to let my guard down, you traitorous, poor excuse of a man!"

Apparently, Draco had been expecting her and already had his wand at the ready; he flicked it towards the door, shutting it smartly behind her. His face was of cold detachment.

"What gave you the right to tell Alex about my feelings? What was going through that tiny, evil little brain of yours?! What made you suddenly decide to completely destroy my relationship with him? You've nearly ruined everything between us! What gave you the _RIGHT_?!" Hemione raged, burning.

Finally he spoke, his voice clipped and sharp. His lips curled with disdain. "You made it **_everybody's_** right from the moment you began sniveling after his wake and made those disgusting doe eyes at him for all to see!"

His voice rapidly degenerated from self-contained coldness to barely being able to restrain his emotions. It was very unlike his usual self to fly off the handle like this. "I thought I'd do you and the rest of the world a favor by speeding up the process. YOU obviously weren't doing anything about it! So what's wrong with casually suggesting a hypothetical to the man?!"

Hermione sputtered. There was so much to process, so much to address. Where to even start! Finally getting a foothold, she screamed, "You have no IDEA what you just did, do you? What is **_wrong_** with you?!"

As she continued shouting expletives at him, she couldn't help but notice that he was definitely acting strangely. Different from few other times she saw him lose his tight self-control. His eyes were darting back and forth between her face and the door behind her. When he shouting back at her, his words were jumbled, like he couldn't hold onto the words coming out of his mouth – they just had to burst through. He began fumbling and his sentence structures were beginning to loose shape. He started to hesitate, like he wanted to say something but he managed to not say them.

Finally, he bit out, "You're so…..you're so **_selfish_**."

She couldn't even speak. Her mouth opened, no words coming out. What did he mean by that? Deep in her gut, she had a feeling they weren't talking about the same subject anymore.

"You're always…looking…and and…you never..!"

Hermione had no words to respond to him. She couldn't decipher what he was going on about. Confused, but too angry to be intrigued, she plowed on with her anger. "I have no idea what you're blathering on about, Malfoy. You are an awful human being for even thinking of sabatoging a person's personal life like that. Be glad I have been over Alex for awhile now and managed to salvage our friendship, or you better believe you would be absolutely _smoking_ from my curse, you damn pillock!"

His face changed drastically, his eyes widening in surprise. As he opened his mouth, she cut in wrathfully, "I. am. **leaving**. And if you ever, EVER try to interfere with my life again, I will hex off so many parts of you no one will ever be able to piece you back together!"

As she turned to leave, she fully expected something scathing from him, most likely him not admitting to his guilt, to ever show the faintest amount of regret. But the hesitant, almost strangled tone he had was enough to make her turn around.

He was standing up, his hands on his desk, shoulders hunched. His entire body was tense, like he was physically restraining himself from moving, forcing his body to stay behind that desk. His eyes were clouded, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Granger, I……I didn't want to….." He cursed underneath his breath. He took a deep breath and looked up at her, starting over again. "You know I wouldn't….you were just – "

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're trying to say and frankly, I don't really care."

With that, the door slammed behind her.

* * *

Hermione had plenty of time to mull over Draco's strange behavior and his confusing words. They actually haven't spoken in two weeks. Not even bumped into each other once. Granted Hermione tried her damndest to avoid him, but she was surprised when it seemed like he was making an effort as well to not see her. That was odd. Usually even after a row Malfoy was never shy about encountering and confronting her. Although she was glad for the respite, she couldn't help but notice how odd it was to not have contact with him for such a long time. He had been a constant figure in her life ever since she was eleven. Well, there was that time right after Hogwarts, but that was a different story.

The sad thing about this whole affair was that she knew it wouldn't last. Somehow, someway, they would find themselves interacting as normal, like nothing had ever transpired between them, without even an apology. She should have hated him forever. Never to be forgiven. And had he been anyone else, she would have done just that.

But it was Malfoy.

This latest incident was nothing but a small hitch in their bumpy road together. They had a strange way of going back to normal despite all their bad feelings. It was mostly Malfoy's doing. He just had that effect. Their relationship was a tumultuous one. At best they squabbled. But the thing was, they had been through so much together. They've been through much worse.

They've been at each other's throats, literally, with every intention of death. They were side by side when the news was announced that the War was truly over. They've been to so many gatherings together, every one of them ending with Draco fighting and getting into an argument with at least one of her friends. They held each other when it was announced their comrades died valiantly.

In any event, Hermione had a lot on her plate. If she wasn't contemplating what Malfoy's deal was, it was over Blaise. After announcing to Alex that she fancied him, she began wondering what was so wrong with that idea. Sure, her chances may be close to nil, and she felt funny every time he was with her, but still! He paid attention to her, he was smart, he was attractive, he was single. Why not? It would certainly give her something to concentrate on.

After deciding to pursue Blaise and to consciously spend time with him, he seemed delighted by it. He more than happily accepted her attention and invited her out as much as he could. If she wasn't going to get rid of all her inexperience with him, then with who, right? It's not like she had a whole slew of men lining up in front of her to choose from.

She was mildly concerned over being so uncomfortable in his presence, but she chalked it up to nerves. She figured if she was exposed to him more, she would get used to him and her feelings would begin to grow. So for now, she was preparing herself to fancy him. She hadn't….as of yet….actually fallen for him. But she will. With time. She was sure of it.

As two weeks crawled by, Hermione was shocked at how…….empty life felt. Things just weren't as interesting. It was strange. Things were actually kind of boring without that little bugger around to keep her attention. And from she heard from the whispers around the office, he was having a difficult time with this as well. He didn't seem to be functioning too well without her either. He wasn't performing up to par. His work was slipping. Word was he was actually surly to others, even women. It was well known that he had a different face for people other than her, Harry, and Ron. He created a pleasant façade, knowing that it was optimal for getting whatever it was that he wanted. To have him break down like this showed the extent of the blow.

Could she…..could it be…..she **_enjoyed_** spending time with him? But that was preposterous! He lived to annoy her. She lived to aggravate him. They drove each other crazy. But…..things just seemed more alive, more fun with him around. He constantly challenged her and acknowledged her presence. He wasn't intimidated by her intellect. He treated her like an equal, which was a lot, coming from the most arrogant, egotistical person alive. Now that she thought about it, after the Gala, they had been getting along particularly well – it reminded her a bit of their 7th year. Despite their differences, they did have some fun times together. Definitely better times than during the War….

At the thought of the War she shuddered.

She stuck to her resolve. She wasn't going to break first! What he did was atrocious. She didn't care if he was having a hard time. Served him right.

* * *

Hermione was writing up some follow-up notes on her latest report when suddenly a note came whizzing into her office. Her eyebrow quirked up. She recognized that pretentious, expensive stationary right away.

"_Brilliant, I wonder what he has to say_," she thought sourly to herself. No doubt it was some rude request for something or an insult to her hair.

Her eyes widened.

_**Granger,**_

_**I was wrong. Get in my office so I can apologize properly.**_

_**D.M.**_

To say she was shocked would be an understatement. This was Malfoy. He NEVER apologizes. Even when he knew 100 that he was wrong, he found a way to preserve his dignity and either convinced himself through slippery logic that he wasn't wrong, or he completely ignored the whole thing. She couldn't believe what she was reading. If not for his recognizable handwriting, she would have sworn someone was playing her for a fool. And of course his tone. Only he would be so demanding and haughty in an apology attempt.

Numb with confusion, she found her feet taking her to his office. Before she knew it, she was in front of his office. As she mechanically raised her hand to knock, the door opened with Draco standing by his desk, his back to her. He seemed to be digging some items out of a large paper bag.

"Um –" Hermione began, hesitantly.

Briskly, he handed her a box, literally shoving it into her arms. She looked down at it, then back up at him. He made an impatient gesture with his hand, indicating that she should open it.

When she took the top off, she gasped.

"I remember you looking at that one day in the Alley," he said brusquely, his face and demeanor the very example of business professional. He went back to searching through the bag.

She had, but she wasn't aware that he saw her. She didn't even know they were at Diagon Alley at the same time. It was a beautiful, gauzy robe that was all the rage at the moment. The light robe was literally see-through, meant to be worn on top of standard robes; since most robes were conventionally black, the thinner robe gave it some color and spice without covering it. This particular one was a fine, mesh-y kind of material, so light it could float on its own. It was deep maroon in color with the bottom embellished with a slight touch of lace.

"Malfoy," she breathed, touching the material, not believing what she was seeing. Of course, it was gorgeous, but it was the most expensive thing in that window display! She checked the tag – how did he know her exact size?

He shoved another box in front of her. Nearly dropping her box, she managed to put it down to tentatively open this smaller one. Inside clattered no fewer than 12 pairs of expensive cufflinks. She finally shot her head up, looking him directly into his eyes.

"Those are all the cufflinks I own – I'm currently doing without **_any_**." He pushed his robe sleeve up to reveal the dress shirt underneath. His shirt cuff was indeed naked and closed with the customary button sewn on. Who was this man and what did he do to the real Draco Malfoy?

"But you – "

"Leave them here, we're going out," he announced, making his way out the door without looking back. Hermione, dazed at his behavior, managed to place the boxes on his chair and quickly followed him. Her mind still hasn't caught up with the events. All she could do was follow the bulldozer known as Malfoy. He remained several paces in front of her, despite her best efforts. She tried to chalk it up to him getting a head start, but knew she was lagging behind do his superior physical condition and his long legs. And her shoes were tall.

Where was he taking her? And why was he doing this? Why was he buying her things? He seemed like he was trying to maintain a certain air of detachment, which was probably typical of him. Of course he wouldn't apologize sincerely like a normal person – he would make it seem like he was getting his teeth pulled.

They passed by the expensive jewelry shop, the many women's boutiques until they finally reached the obscure bookshop that Hermione loved to frequent. He entered, only to turn back at the door when he noticed she just stood there, in the middle of the street. Staring at him.

"Well?" he said, turning to the side, allowing her room to enter.

She finally found her voice. "What exactly are you **_doing_**?"

"Obviously I'm buying you books. Whatever you want. They're all yours," he said a little gruffly, signaling for her to enter. But she wasn't done yet.

"Is this how you apologize to all those other women?" she asked scathingly, knowing she was only sounding this way because she was mystified as hell. "You just buy them off?"

He growled, putting his hand across his eyes. "You know I don't." He removed his hand and looked her straight in the eyes. Offhandedly, she noted how beautiful his eyes really were. Such a unique shade of gray. "Look, you know how I was raised. You know I don't…..I'm not used to…" He floundered.

Hermione mentally shook her head. He couldn't even say the _word_ apologize. She jerked her head, indicating she knew what he was saying so he could proceed.

He recollected himself. "This is the only way I know how, okay? So just….just let me do this. For you. Let me do this and have you forgive me with this stupid, pointless, utterly undeserving display of wealth. Alright?"

The way he looked. It was so unlike him. It was like he was desperately trying to do the right thing, but just didn't know how. And he was frustrated with himself, not only for not knowing what to do, but also for feeling the need to apologize in the first place. He was trying hard not to snap at her because he was essentially angry at himself, not her. He was like a boy, acting tough because he didn't want any emotions to show, embarrassed by it. Beneath his bravado, she could sense a hint of desperation. It was like she **had** to accept his offer. Otherwise it'd be like she would never forgive him. He was throwing himself out on the limb, balancing himself on the tightrope.

Hermione couldn't help but grin. The fact that he knew that nothing could really please her more than books showed how much thought he put into this. If he had just showered her with randomly bought jewelry and clothing, she had a feeling she wouldn't have accepted his gesture of apology as readily. She didn't need his money, she didn't need these books. he knew that. But if she didn't do this….. She quickly suppressed her smile and lifted her chin up. She marched right in front of him and into the store.

She looked over her shoulder. "Be warned Malfoy, I'm planning on buying all the leather-bound, limited edition, gold embossed books I can find. Prepare yourself," she said haughtily, watching him for his reaction.

And like that, the hard exterior around him melted, revealing the easy-going, pompous man she was used to. He smirked and followed her in. "I'll have you know just the interest alone in one of my accounts is enough to buy out this entire shop."

"In that case, I'm going to start here….."

* * *

"That really is a beautiful robe you have on," Blaise said softly, during one of their frequent dinners. It was a very nice restaurant, with candles floating about them to create a light, romantic ambiance.

Hermione blushed. Not just from his compliment. How was she supposed to explain to him Malfoy bought it for her? As an **_apology_**? So she merely thanked him.

Since making up with Draco, she saw Blaise more and more. He was the perfect gentleman every time, never asking for more than a kiss on the hand, although recently he had been kissing her on the cheek. And he started touching her more. Nothing too major – a touch of his hand to hers now and again, the occasional light pressure on the small of her back, standing quite close to her. Nothing too invasive. She wondered if it was the standard "butterflies in your stomach from excitement" she was feeling. She definitely felt something every time they touched. But she was curious why she wasn't drooling over his shoes, begging for him to take to the land of adult love like all the other women out there. Perhaps it just wasn't in her nature?

What was truly confusing was how Malfoy was treating her. He was still a git and took every opportunity he had to insult her, but there was something new added to the mix. There was a tension. Every now and again, he was almost….flirty. Just the thought of it made her shudder a little. However, there was no other word to describe it. His jokes, his jibes, had a tinge of sexuality that was never there before.

Like once, when they were arguing over something petty, she retorted that he just couldn't handle her being in control or something like that. Then he leaned in real close, whispering, "Oh, I think I could handle you just fine." And it wasn't really what he said – if he had said that with a snort and a wave, she would have understood. But the way he bent towards her, his eyes hazy and his smile coy and his face so close to hers she could feel his breath – that was new. That was all new.

Hermione shivered. She didn't know what was the matter with him. Or with her, for that matter. She should have been gagging in her mouth when he did those things. Oddly, it filled her with a sense of dread and excited anticipation. It was kind of thrilling. It was ridiculous.

She had to keep on telling herself there was no way she felt anything for him and vice versa. It was probably just his new, favorite method of teasing her. Probably one day when he offhandedly made a somewhat sexual joke, they way she reacted was hilarious to him, so he kept on doing it. Or or or…..maybe he was just frustrated…. in **_that_** way…. and it was just unconsciously spilling over to her.

Finally, just the other day, she barked at him to hurry up and find another bimbo already so she could finally live in peace. He merely laughed, "Granger, you have no idea, do you?"

She had nothing to say to that, but she tried her hardest not to think too hard about it. The way he smiled and walked away dismissively - all that indicated that he saw her as he always did. So…that must mean that….it was all just a big joke to him.

Yes. That was it. It was all in her head. If only she could snap out of it, he wouldn't be able to affect her anymore. A perfect explanation.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" Blaise asked, his eyes worried.

She brought her eyes on him. Oh dear, how long had she been lost in thought? She quickly smiled. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine."

He smiled back, revealing his perfect, white teeth. "What do you say we finish here? I know a great coffee house with excellent desserts. You said you like chocolates, yes?"

Hermione laughed. Liked chocolates – she **_loved_** them. "Just show me the way."

As they were exiting, she again couldn't help but notice the protective way he had his hand on the small of her back, gently leading her through the restaurant. And at the end of the night, he moved to give her his customary peck on the cheek. But this time, she wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, he kissed her further down her cheek, at the corner of her mouth. He bade her goodnight and Apperated. That was as close to a kiss as she had ever gotten. She should be ecstatic. She was definitely shivering.

Her hand moved to wipe her face.

* * *

The next day at the labs, Hermione was furiously trying to pipette while making sure Reginald didn't sneak off to find more flowers to use in his experiments. It was hard.

A stack of papers suddenly flopped onto her workbench, causing her to jump, squeezing the entire content of the dropper into the tube.

"Oh, **_crumbs_**!"

"That's the best you can do?" Malfoy asked, looking at her incredulously.

Hermione threw her equipment into the sink with a glower. "I'm a changed woman," she retorted. "Couldn't you announce yourself like a normal person? Or quietly slip this stack of Merlin knows what onto the table?"

"And the enjoyment that brings me would be…?"

"Can you just tell me what these are?!" she snapped, picking up the stack.

"Just some funding reports from the last two weeks. I just need you to sign here….initial here….and here…..and date this….and sign again here."

As she was grumbling at the idiocy that was bureaucracy, Malfoy made himself at home by lounging in her swivel chair, leaning back and twirling around. Halfway through the stack, she was suddenly, unexpectedly assaulted with a vision.

_It felt good to be walking down these halls again. It had been…what, four weeks? Five? She never thought she would survive and come back here. She couldn't be too leisurely though, she had to be debriefed in forty-five minutes. Maybe another quick round of the place, then grab a quick bite to eat before heading over to the main conference room._

_She was suddenly pushed into an empty closet, the door slamming shut. It was dark. Her heart began racing. No. **NO**. She opened her mouth to scream._

_"Shhhh," he whispered, somehow flawlessly knowing where her lips were and pressed his finger against them. He pulled a hanging chain from the ceiling, lighting a tiny light bulb that barely lit the room._

_She relaxed when she realized who it was. Then she tensed again, realizing who it was. "What are you doing?" she managed to hiss. She began struggling out of his arms. He held fast._

"_We don't have much time," he went on, completely ignoring her question. He pressed her against the wall with his body, freeing his arms to roam her body. She felt a familiar heat rising in her. Well, familiar enough; they've only started four, five weeks ago. His hands firmly and confidently traveled down the side of her body, wrapping around to squeeze her buttocks. She gasped._

"_N-no, stop," she whispered, putting her hands on his shoulders. She tried to push him off but she was unsuccessful. Why was he doing this? They weren't……**there**. So why?_

"_Just try and make me," he murmured in her ear as he continue to knead her supple butt. His lips moved down to her neck where he began to lick and lightly scrape his teeth. Oh no, not her neck. She couldn't help but whimper, her hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. Thank God he was pressing her so tightly against the wall or else she would have collapsed. How was it that she could loose all her senses just from his simple touch?_

_"I-I don't….understand," she panted, now wrapping her arms around his neck. He kicked her legs opened, making himself comfortable between them. He reached underneath her skirt and began stroking her, separated only by her thin panties._

"_I don't really either," he admitted, then he kissed her fiercely, like a man drowning. "I just saw you and I couldn't help myself." His tongue forced its way into her mouth, assaulting hers. She moaned deep in his mouth. She was heady with his ministrations. Gods, he was so good at this. She bucked her hips, wanting more attention. One of her legs automatically wrapped itself around his waist._

_He ran his other hand down her silky leg. He chuckled. She really was like a drug. He released her mouth momentarily so he could slip two of his fingers into his mouth. Slick with saliva, he quickly brought them back down under her skirt, roughly pulling her panties off to one side so he could stimulate her more directly._

_He swallowed her gasp with another searing kiss. Hermione began to shake. Such talented fingers. They knew exactly what to do; they lightly circled her clit in tight, quick circles, just the way she liked it. Then they began to flicker up and down her clit rapidly. Her breath hitched. She could feel his hard erection pressing into her stomach. Just the thought of its size made her wetter. She was definitely ruining this pair of knickers. Hermione started breathing rhythmically. She was close. She felt that rush down her legs to the tips of her toes, the deep, knotting feeling down her abdomen.._

_She groaned when he stopped playing with her clit, but immediately stopped when he slipped one finger into her soaking channel. He began pumping it in and out, first slowly, then building speed. It felt **wonderful**. His finger curved slightly, brushing up against her G-spot. He went faster. Hermione started to rock with him. Oh God. So close. He added another finger._

"_Do you like your knickers?" he growled, gripping her thigh tightly in an attempt to keep in control and not just throw her to the floor, rutting her like an common animal._

"_H-hn?" she managed to gasp. She couldn't piece together a coherent thought at the moment. He took that as a no._

"_Good, because I can't fuck you properly with them on." With that, he ripped the thin material right off her as she moaned. He removed his fingers and quickly replaced them with his hot, throbbing member. He couldn't help but let out a moan as well. She was so **tight**._

_As he was pumping in and out of her, she wrapped her other leg around his waist, allowing him to penetrate her deeper. He gritted his teeth, he almost came right there and then. She was a quick learner, he'd give her that. His movements became more sloppy as he neared his climax and he hammered into her relentlessly. She didn't even try to muffle her moans anymore. She was going to come, she was going to come so hard. Her fingers gripped his back and she squeezed her thighs together. He knew she was close. He continued thrusting into her. Hermione suddenly brought her lips to the spot where his neck ended and his shoulders began in order to soften her scream as she came. When he felt her walls contract around his shaft, he knew he couldn't hold it in any longer. With a few more pumps, he came as well, squirting his milky semen into her. After a few spurts, he was finally spent and she was starting to spiral down from her orgasmic bliss._

_They both sank down to the floor. She was half holding him, half getting flattened by his limp body. His muscles were so tight and hard. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing on her neck. His penis slipped out of her, her own cum and his semen dribbling down her thighs and onto the floor._

_They were like that for awhile, both lost in exhausted pleasure. He knew she was going start asking him again why he did what he just did. She assumed that what they had together was only for the mission. How wrong she was. But he didn't have the energy to explain himself just yet. To distract her, he tried to bring up another subject before she had a chance to speak._

"_When this is all over, you should visit my villa in Venice, it has a fantastic view," he murmured, tracing patterns on her breasts with an idle finger. Her shirt was crumpled now and smelled of sex and sweat._

_She didn't say anything at first. He began to wonder if she even heard him. Then, "Does it look out into the water or into the town?"_

_He grinned. "The town. You can see San Marco's Piazza from it." He moved to kiss her again, this time a little gentler because he was sated, but still held that animal hunger. He nipped her lips._

_When the broke the kiss, Hermione brushed the hair that was covering his eyes. Such lovely eyes._

_Such lovely gray eyes.  
_

* * *

Hermione gasped. She gripped the pile of paper in her hand with cold hands. What was that. **WHAT WAS THAT.**

A memory? A fantasy? She didn't which one was worse. She threw an fierce look Malfoy's way. What did he do to her? Some sort of joke spell, to make her have naughty visions? But he was busy observing Reginald nervously trying to hide his potted plants from view and failing miserable. No. He didn't cause this.

Hermione felt very warm. That dr- no, that fanta – no! That _vision_ was intense. Whatever it was, it made the apex of her legs hot and she had to cross her legs. Her knickers were oddly damp. There was a tight knot deep in her stomach. Her face must have been red as a tomato. She took a deep breath. She tried to focus and not think of her physical body. She had to transcend it. There was only one way to figure out what was what.

"M-Malfoy?" she squeaked, cursing herself for not having better control. She had to be strong. There had to be some sort of reasonable explanation for this.

"What?" he said loftily, not even glancing back at her.

She cleared her throat and said in what she hoped was a clear, confident, not suspicious at all kind of voice, "Do you have villa in Venice that looks out to San Marco's?"

It felt like a million years for him to turn around and face her. She could feel her heart beating in her eardrums. She hoped she could hear him over her heart beats. She hid half her face behind the stack of papers. Hermione prayed to God that he couldn't even being to fathom what she just experienced. She would have been mortified.

He cocked his head to one side, eyeing her strangely. This was it. This was it.

"Well, yes. How did you know that?"

Oh God. **OH GOD**. Hermione began to panic.

"No-no reason! I mean, I heard you bragging about it one day," she spat out quickly, stuttering. She abruptly stood up. "I just remembered I had to go do something I don't know what I mean I know what it was but I should get going gottogobye!"

She dashed out of the labs, leaving behind a confused Malfoy and papers strewn all over the place.

* * *

WOW, sorry for the late update. I told you job hunting was a bitch. Er…so….how was it? Truth be told, this was my most difficult chapter to date, and probably one of the trickiest of this series. I really, really hate stupid expositions and boring explanations, which this chapter is full of. I know, I'm sorry, I apologize. This was the hardest because this chapter is THE transition chapter. This is where things go from light and fluffy to revealing secrets and kind dark and thinky. Hopefully it was okay?

I slaved over this fic all night, trying really hard to get everything to flow smoothly. Let me know if it seems stilted and well, boring. I will try my best to edit it and make it work. I don't know how other authors do things, but I can't write over a period of time. I usually write about a page of outline for the chapter, then start typing and filling in the blanks and I don't stop until I finish. So yeah, this is all freshly typed! Not to toot my own horn, but sometimes I'm amazed that even with only a bare idea in my mind, suddenly my fingers start moving and then…..24 pages of writing comes out! I've been typing nonstop throughout the night and let me tell you, my fingers are TIRED!

Thank you all so much for reviewing – did I mention that before? Of course I truly enjoy the long comments and the predictions (who wouldn't, right?), but I know how much effort it takes to write a review, so even a simple, "NICE" feels wonderful to me and helps inspire me to write faster. Thank you. Thank you. I am not worthy.

Even thought it's not a Post-Hogwarts story, I really enjoyed one from a long time ago, named something like "Draco, the Amazing Bouncing Rat" on It was light but not too fluffy, and extremely funny. I really enjoyed how the author portrayed Draco so that he was able to get along with everybody yet not be some namby-pamby little boy. So drawing from her rendition, that was how I wanted my current Draco to be – someone integrated and close to Hermione, Ron, and all of them, yet still retaining his snarkiness. If you get a chance, please do read that story. It's great.

I'm really nervous about releasing this chapter, so even if you hate it, be kind in your criticism?? And how was the smut? Haha I know, it's all the way at the end – fooled you, didn't I? I know it's kind of fast and forced, but I tried to make it that way to help enforce the notion that it was a quickie heeheehee. I hope it was decent. Again, let me know.

Next chapter, more little tidbits get revealed, but perhaps not too clearly! And definitely, some bonafide smut, I promise this time. We're going to experience: Hermione's birthday bash!

Till next time!! LOVE YOU ALL!!!


	12. Unexpected Birthday Gift

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: God, this little dance again. You cruel, heartless lawyering bastards. How dare you. Really. This is completely unnecessary. You should be paying ME for saying Harry Potter isn't mine. Think of the emotional damage that just did. Think about it.

* * *

He walked briskly through the Ministry hallway, immensely glad there weren't any blundering children loitering around for him to bump into. Explain to him one more time why, even after the War, he found himself once again the Potions Master at Hogwarts?

Severus Snape could have been a lot of things, especially after being exonerated and given one of the highest honors for his role as a double agent. He could have gotten a cushy job at the Ministry, pushing eager and naïve scientists into doing his bidding. He could have secluded himself into delicious hermityhood, dedicating the rest of his life to painstakingly accurate potions making. But instead, he found himself victim to not only the idiocy that was children, but also to the frigid dictatorship of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

Sweet lord.

Thankfully, every now and again the combination of scheduling and special trips to Hogsmeade allowed Severus the sweet release of a classless day. Although he could have a day to himself and dedicated to brewing potions, he usually made the effort to drag himself to the Ministry to pick up some elusive, government issued ingredients and to visit his godson, Draco. And, as much as it pained him to admit, Hermione Granger.

His petty dislike for Potter and Weasley pretty much drove a wedge between them and whatever friendliness they could have created with each other – although truth be told, as the years went by, his animosity for the two had waned. But only by a little. And by a little, he meant miniscule. He really couldn't give a damned about the two.

Really.

The only redeemable one of the bunch was Hermione. Her decision to be an Alchemist rather than an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries made him see her in a fonder light. He'd like to think his superb teaching abilities in his area of expertise played an important role in her career choice. Whenever he visited, she always came to him with fresh new ideas and questions that were nowhere near the vicinity of, "Excuthe me, thir? Which way exactly ith the cauldron thuppothed to face again?" Her intellect was pure heaven amidst a sea of numbskullery.

And her ability to collect – no – **_amass_** such an eclectic and eccentric group of superb scientists was admirable. Although their enthusiasm and all-around cheerful nature disturbed him, he almost always never regretted visiting her labs, as the abundance of information was worth it.

Today, rather than visit Draco first this time, Severus found himself in front of the lab doors. He had heard of Hermione's success with the Berlin poison and wanted to see for himself how the final product of the counter-agent was coming along. He pushed open the doors.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned to him at once, wide with guilt and surprise. The minions froze at the unexpected appearance of a person. Hermione wasn't supposed to be due back for another hour. They stared at him.

Snape stared back.

Silence.

No one moved. A few held their beakers mid-air, frozen. Beakers filled with strange colored liquids bubbling. And goo. One had a crawfish scrambling around in it.

A couple of balloons helplessly floated towards the ceiling.

Reginald clutched his potted tulip, his knuckles white with nervousness. Amanda Cleese had her hands full of his knives, paused in a tableau akin to the stabbing scene in the movie "Psycho." Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

Fire awkwardly exploded from Franco's desk, where he stiffened, thinking that if he tensed up, it would further remove him from being implicated as the guilty party.

A creature skittered by on the ground, looking much like a strange breed of mollusk crossed with a jellyfish crossed with a beagle. It made a scuttling noise.

Without moving any of his facial muscles, Snape slowly closed the doors and slowly backed away. He turned on his heels, slowly now, and began slowly, mechanically, marching down the hall to the lifts. Once he reached them, he finally allowed himself to blink and breathe out. He shook himself.

"_Let us never speak or think of that again_," he thought to himself, numb with perplexness. Entering the lift, he pressed with surprisingly steady hands the button for Level 5. Yes, the labs were at a level of strangeness before unknown to him – he should have stuck with his normal routine and visited Draco first. At least over there normalcy was a given.

* * *

"I swear to all that is holy if you don't back away from me **_right now_** I am going to light you on fire!" Draco declared, moving frantically backwards, stumbling over a bump in the carpeting.

"Don't be like that, I just want to – **come back here** – I just want us to acknowledge our friendship and pledge our everlasting companionship!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes feverish with intent and concentration. She walked briskly towards him, unaffected by his fright.

"And that involves touching?!" Draco's voice peaked a little, probably the closest thing to cracking as it ever would get.

Severus deadpanned. He turned around without a word. Then again, there was nothing wrong with brewing potions in the dampness of Hogwarts' bowels in isolation.

"Did you just see someone at the door?" Draco asked suddenly, momentarily distracted.

"No and don't change the subject," Hermione said as she continued to circling him around his desk.

"What has gotten INTO you Granger?"

_**More.**_

"Nothing! What's wrong Malfoy, disgusted?" She made a grab for his arm. He managed to dance out her reach, putting the desk between them.

"YES!"

_**Yes. More.**_

"Just be a man and shake my hand ceremoniously in the name of gestures!" Hermione snarled, launching herself and finally able to grab a hold of his broad shoulders from behind in a massive bear hug.

"Let. Me. Go," he gritted, attempting to shake her off, seeing as how she was literally hanging off him, her feet a good 16 centimeters off the ground. Hermione squeezed harder. Draco, grumbling, set about prying her fingers, then her arms, off him. Hermione felt his muscles tighten underneath her, no doubt straining to get away from her.

_**Prove to me I'm right.**_

"Not until you shake my hand!"

Granted, this wasn't really the ideal method Hermione had in mind to alleviating her worries, but when she first saw him this morning it kind of just came to her and she went with it.

She needed this.

She needed this…affirmation that Malfoy, under no circumstances, was even the slightest bit attracted to her. That it was all in her imagination – no, he did not follow her every moves with hot eyes; no, he certainly did not just lean in closer to speak to her and smell her hair; no, he absolutely would not prefer her company over…ANY other woman alive. And most definitely no, they did not, under ANY circumstances, have sex in a broom closet, of all places.

_**Turn me away.**_

When she had that….vision the other day, she had to admit she could have handled things more smoothly. Such as, **not** rushing out the room like a maniac, never to return. While she had no concrete idea as to why such a thing would enter her mind, she frantically chalked it up to her 28 year-old body finally catching up to her hormones.

"_Perfectly natural_," she had thought desperately to herself, "_I mean, he's a pretty good looking bloke in the right light I suppose, and I **have** been spending most of my time with him. I bet….. had I been spending enough time with anyone, er, say Severus, I'd have those sort of dreams too_!"

In the back of her mind this logic seemed sketchy at best, but she was a desperate woman and if a tattered, worn looking life preserver was thrown to her in the middle of a raging sea, she wasn't about to wait around for something more fashionable and pretty. She grabbed on and she grabbed on with **vigor**.

As for guessing on the nose that Malfoy had a villa in Venice, she figured, perhaps, maybe, most likely, that she had overheard him bragging about it one day in the many, many, MANY days that she had known him and it just stuck in her unconscious somehow.

The fact that he was acting perfectly normal – like she was something he scrapped off the bottom of his shoe but more annoying – helped her further reinforce her wild desire for normalcy. Because it was frightening to entertain the notion that he was attracted to her. No, it was even more frightening to even suggest that **she** was attracted to **him**. Of course, there were the obvious reasons – their long history together, what would people think, he was way more attractive that she was, their status. Many, many reasons.

But those weren't it, really. There was something else. Something….deep down inside her. So deep she couldn't even understand it herself. All she knew was, things **_had_** to stay the same.

**They just had to.**

Malfoy was finally able to wrench himself free of her, his hair slightly mussed, his breath coming out a bit short from exertion. Once he was able to catch his breath, he backed away from her, his body hunched and guarded. He pointed his slightly shaking finger at her in accusation. "I don't know what it is you ate, but you vomit it out and get back to normal!"

If Hermione didn't so desperately need his disgust, she would have laughed. Honestly, seeing him flustered was a thing of amusement. Instead, she merely single-mindedly stuck her stiff hand out at him and waved it around a bit, like she was shaking a delicious piece of bait to a fish.

Draco sputtered. "No! That's exactly what I'm NOT going to do! _Merde_, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm – "

"Draaco," a voice sing-songed, opening the door.

Hermione turned to see a gorgeous, leggy vixen, with luscious, midnight black hair. She squinted, certain she had seen her before in some sort of magazine. Must be that time for the rotation: Malfoy had the habit of keeping his dating scene lively by actively switching the types of girls he dated. First the rich debutante aristocratic girl, then a comely co-worker, then a beautiful celebrity/model.

As Draco went over to work his charms over to the woman, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Good, if he had enough energy to chase after such delicious tail, he obviously had no inclination of interest towards her.

Still, there was a slight tightening at the pit of her stomach when she saw them together. Indigestion, perhaps?

"So who's this, darling?" Renee nodded in Hermione direction.

Draco looked at her warily. "Just a co-worker."

The depressing way he said that set Hermione at ease. She smiled brightly. "How do you do, Hermione Granger! I think I've seen you in Witches Weekly once?"

Instantly Renee Prestin brightened. "Why yes! I model Belinda Max's line, how nice of you to notice! Actually, it was at my first catwalk run that I met Draco and we haven't been apart ever since."

"Really?" Hermione asked innocently. "How very wonderful for the both of you! Malfoy here is a real gem of a man, I hope things work of for the best. Oh, is that ring a gift from him? What lovely taste, you both simply look made for each other – "

Before they could further bond with each other, Malfoy literally picked Hermione up by the scruff of her neck and dragged her over to the corner of his office.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he whispered fiercely.

"I'm just making nice!" she bit back. "You're always saying I'm too critical of the women you date, so what's wrong with being a little supportive?"

"You're going to give her the wrong impression, that's what's wrong. I don't need **you** to bolster up my image, thank you. All you're doing is making her think she has a hell's chance with being with me for an extended period of time, so just stop! Make yourself scarce!"

"Oh, my mistake, allow to rectify my horrid behavior by reiterating word-for-word what you just told me – " Hermione snapped.

Draco was about to slap his hand over her mouth when Renee called out, "Honey, I'm afraid I must run. I have to see Jolene to go over my makeup regiment, silly I know, but it must be done. It was so nice meeting you, Hermione, hope we can run into each other some more."

He shot Hermione a look, indicating in no way was their conversation over, then went over to escort Renee out of the Ministry. She released a deep breath. Okay, that was enough of that, she thought. Trust her, acting all….weird and nice to Malfoy wasn't a trip to the park for her either. Seeing him act this way was enough for her. Once he returned, he glared at her. Hermione shrugged, glad her face could return to the scowl she usually wore when around him.

"Oh look," she said unemotionally, holding her hands up. "Praise the lord, I am free. Who would have thought I was able to break free from that ghastly charm that was cast upon me, forcing me to act like you were actually worthy of my time. Again, I praise."

Draco looked at her dubiously. "A charm? You've got to be kidding me."

"Believe what you will, but let's put all that silliness behind us and try to look to our bright futures, shall we?" she asked flippantly and quickly slipped out of his office before he could respond.

* * *

It felt a bit strange to have the upper hand in their relationship; usually it was Draco making the snarky comments and making her all flustered and confused. Thankfully (or not), things quickly settled back to their normal dynamics before the day was even over. Once again, Draco was the collected one while it was Hermione who had to struggle to keep her cool.

"Stupid Malfoy," she grumbled, wishing for the clock to chime the day over. It wasn't even lunchtime and he already had a swing to his step. She had to admit she had a lame excuse for her behavior this morning, but to have Malfoy rub in how peculiar she was acting was still pretty embarrassing. Yes, she was trying to be a little bit more touchy, but she definitely did not bat her eyelashes at him, nor did she make smoochy faces. Now the whole office was snickering behind their hands.

A letter suddenly landed on her desk and she started smiling when she realized who was delivering it. "Hedwig!" she cooed, softly stroking the preening white owl. She quickly took out a bowl of treats for it to nibble on as she tore apart Harry's letter. Before she could read the contents, a lithe hand from above snatched it from her fingers. She looked up and glared.

"Do you mind not reading other people's mail?" she snapped, nudging Hedwig a little, hoping to egg the owl to unleash her sharp talons upon him. Hedwig shrugged her off in lieu of eating more treats. Stupid, fat fowl.

Ignoring her, Malfoy began reading the letter out loud, much to her ire: "Dear Herms – sweet Merlin does he really call you that – I hope you aren't working yourself to the bone like I know you usually do. Take a break once in a while and enjoy your youth. Speaking of youth, have you given any thoughts to your upcoming birthday party – smooth Potter, way to transition that like a true gentleman. I can't wait to see everybody together again, but if you can help it, try to keep that damned bastard Mal – that bleeding pillow-biter! – out of your guest list. In any case, I hope to hear from you soon, luv. Love, the man who just said love twice like some unimaginative schoolgirl. Oh, and PS, I like men."

"Malfoy…," Hermione warned, grabbing her letter back. "I could have done without your ridiculous commentary."

"But where would the excitement and wit be had I not injected some of it into an otherwise drab letter?" he asked with a smirk.

"It'd be still up your arse, most likely," she mumbled, taking out a fresh piece of parchment to write her reply. "Go away, I want to write back to him and I don't need you breathing over my shoulder."

Leaning over her head while sitting on her chair's armrest, he asked, "By the way, what are you doing for the ole two-nine?"

"I hardly think that matters to you, as you're not invited."

"I'm hurt, Granger, really. After all those years of personal invitations to the celebration of your birth and suddenly you deny me?"

"I believe for the past few years you've ungraciously crashed my parties, uninvited and unwanted. Considering last year's fiasco, I'm going to order armed guards to stand ground in front of the doors with a picture of you in their hands," she said with a scowl, throwing him a look.

Draco sniffed. "I had it on good authority that excellent liquor was to be served, otherwise I wouldn't have made the effort. My display of displeasure was just."

"First, once again, you were **not** invited. Second, invited or not, flipping over the tables in childish anger is not just. Third, I highly doubt an excitable Seamus Finnigan crying out, 'There's going to be booze tonight!' counts as good authority. "

"Please, the man's Irish."

"That **is** true," she conceded distractedly, lost in memory, before smacking him on the arm. "Stop that!"

"Okay okay," he cooed, his eyes alight with wicked amusement. "Since I know you're going to be predictable and planning to hold your party at the Burrow, once **again**, why don't I suggest a venue?"

"And where would that be? A topless bar?" she asked, baring her teeth.

"No, how filthy and pedestrian. I was going to say the Velvet Magnolia."

"I beg your pardon? The same Velvet Magnolia Hotel that houses some of the Wizarding World's finest? You must be joking," Hermione said with a look of disbelief.

"The very same. I happen to know that the ballroom on the lobby floor would be an excellent setting for the tearful farewell to your twenties. Go out with a bang and all that."

"You must frequent there a lot to know of their possible venues," she grumbled, jealous not for the first time in her life of his luxurious lifestyle.

"Own it, actually," he said casually. He took no effort in hiding his smugness when he saw her jaw drop.

"**You** own one of the oldest hotel institutions on this side of Europe?" she squeaked.

"Acquired it in a business takeover. Mostly skill, some of it luck. Right place, right time, that sort of thing. I won't even charge you the cover for renting the room. Think of it as an way of making up for that mess last year," he said loftily, then frowning at the look on her face. "Yes all right, and that incident the year before."

"I don't know," she said slowly, sizing him up. "It's awful generous of you…."

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "It's really not a big thing."

Hermione looked him up and down, sizing him up. Finally, "My left foot it's not a big thing. What do you want?"

He smiled. Leave it to the most brilliant witch he has ever known to not let anything slip by her. "Well, there is one thing you could do for me, and it really doesn't even involve you at all."

"I knew it, out with it then."

"I would like to borrow a few of your alchemists to work on a pet project of mine. Just a little experiment, nothing much. I'd just rather it be done in the hands of the best rather than some two-rated scientist you find in those other labs."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Malfoy," she warned. "And what exactly is this pet project of yours? Nothing illegal, I hope. Of course, knowing you…."

"Nonsense Granger, what is this rubbish. I'd just like for them to work with me in developing a sort of charm pill. You know, instead of that tiring exercise of swishing that wand to make someone say, feel more cheerful, they could just take a pill," he explained.

"Those already exist, in case you didn't know. They're called anti-depressants," Hermione said dryly.

Malfoy waved her off. "Bad example. How about, a pill that could diminish a man's evil intent? Or curb a killer's bloodlust? Or makes it impossible to lie? Be awful handy to have that around in case you didn't have a Potions Master in your back cupboard."

She gave him a look. "I don't know, that seems pretty unethical, to change a person's demeanor…"

"Please," he scoffed. "Look at all the Charms out there – they change a person's demeanor like mad! I'm just thinking about bottling them into something portable, easy, and highly marketable."

"I think this issue is too big to barter over a birthday venue," Hermione decided. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll find my own place – "

"Look, if you just give me a handful of your people and develop the pills, I'd have to turn them over to the Board of Ethics in any case. If they deem it unethical, it's unethical and that's that. The decision really isn't going to be in our hands!" he interrupted, frustrated. "I know your people are dying to do something other than making that anti-agent, so why not send a few my way? Burn a bit of that anxiety, eh?"

After thinking about it long and hard, Hermione conceded. "Fine," she said tiredly, agreeing with his logic. "I have to warn you though, you may not get very far with them. Mostly likely they'll get stuck at the planning stage, going on forever deciding the flavor of the pill or some rot like that."

Draco laughed. "I'll be sure to keep them in line."

Hermione sighed. And here she was fooled for one second that he was capable of doing even one nice thing for her. Of course whatever he offered had a price attached to it. How typical.

**But then, why did that bother her so much?**

"Good, now get out of my office, I have important things to do that don't revolve around you," she said tiredly.

"When will it ever penetrate your bushy little head that everything revolves around me?"

"GET OUT."

"Of course…," he said, opening the door. The tinkling of a little bell on a trolley caught his attention. He turned to Hermione. "Ooh look Granger, the tea lady's here and it's Earl Gray Thursday. Fancy sharing a pot?"

She gritted her teeth. Damn, and she just told him to get out. What a waste of pride. "Fine," she bit out. "But with crumpets this time."

* * *

The party was finally winding down, after almost eight hours of festivities. Hermione had never seen such indulgences on an act she had no part in, other than getting manually popped out. She knew from the beginning that if anybody knew how to throw a party, her boys were the one to look for.

When she told them a few weeks back about Draco's so-called kind offer, they were at first, understandably, wary. After a few minutes of interrogation of, what exactly did he say and are you sure his eye didn't twitch like so when he said that because you do know that's a telling sign of his lying trickery, the two man-boys whooped with delight. If it was on Malfoy, their best mate would finally get the party she deserved.

Whether she liked it or not.

Even at Hogwarts Hermione insisted on low-key, very modest birthday celebrations, and even more so as she grew older. For some of them, the parties were, to put it lightly, depressingly simple. They weren't even allowed to sprinkle colorful confetti – she thought it was a waste of trees and a chore to have to clean them up afterwards. No matter how swift the broom nor how thorough the cleaning spell, there was always, **always**, one square of those little buggers left floating around to haunt you for the rest of your days. Or at least, according to her.

Now that they were given to opportunity of a lifetime, they weren't about to let it go by like all her other ones, with a simple homemade cake, reused candles, and a small gathering of loved ones either at her cramped flat or at the Burrow.

This was going to be epic.

Everybody she had ever known was at this party. Well, anybody she was fairly friendly to, anyhow. All of her classmates from Hogwarts, co-workers, mentors, Order members – they were all there at one point or another. Even Malfoy got into the spirit of things and invited a few affluent acquaintances to help liven up the party with their celebrity status.

By now though, most of the guests had left leaving only a few stragglers, mostly her closest friends and few too tipsy to Apperate home just yet.

"HAPPY BIIRSHDAAY!" Seamus crowed, slurring heavily as he slung his arm around Hermione's shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

"Thank you Seamus, that's the twentieth time you said that," she said with a good-natured sigh, trying to make sure he didn't fall face first onto the smooth marble floor.

"Alright there, Hermione?" a familiar smooth voice asked from behind her.

"Yeah, just fine," she said with a small grin, turning around slightly to look at Blaise. "I'm used to it."

When Blaise raised an elegant eyebrow, she further explained, while re-adjusting herself to better accommodate Seamus' weight. "I'm pretty much Seamus' designated…..everything whenever he gets like this. I think it's because I'm the only person who won't start drawing all over his face and private bits."

He laughed at this. "I think the sight of you drawing on him would be priceless."

Seamus managed to shake himself out of his drunken stupor long enough to jab a finger at Blaise's expensive jacket.

"Herrrrmione! Tell me again…why this…bloke is here? He's not (hic!) yuir friend!"

Blaise's eyes smoldered, his smile deepened, darkened. "That's right, we're not ….. friends."

Hermione's heart skipped at little and she quickly looked at him, but his face changed back to that of pleasant friendliness. Her cheeks burned. Did he mean what he just alluded to?

"Then what are ye?" his Irish accent growing stronger by the minute.

"Yes, Hermione, what exactly am I?" Blaise asked good-naturedly.

Panic time. "Er, Seamus, he was only joking about, look at him," she said nervously, her leg starting to cramp up from his weight. "What do you see?"

There, leave it up to rhetoric and self-assessment to put her out of the spotlight.

Suddenly Seamus grinned and laughed heartily. "Yeah, this boy's alright! Haha he's even dresshed like one o' us!" He drunkenly clapped Blaise on the shoulder. "Ye look so cute in yuir ickle red tie and yuir gold accented blazer buttons – like a miniature Gryff you is!"

He started laughing so hard he couldn't keep still, making it very hard for Hermione to support him. Desperate, she looked around the room. Where the hell was this man's partner in crime?!

"DEAN! A little help, if you don't mind!" she called out to the room in general. As if on cue, the tall, dark man appeared and lifted him easily off her.

"Sorry luv, had to see how long you'd last with him. The boys had a pool going," he said jokingly, hoisting his long-time friend up.

"Could you not?" she growled. "Oh, forget it, just…take him outside for air or something."

As the two men slowly made their way to the balcony, with of course, one of them warbling "Oh Danny Boy," Hermione let out a sigh and began massaging her sore shoulders.

"I'll have you know my choice in wardrobe really had nothing to do with old House colors," Blaise said, his face serious but his eyes twinkling.

"Really?" Hermione teased back. "Because I must say, I agree with Seamus when I see your distinctive choice of color combination."

He shrugged lazily. "I just thought they would looked good on me." Then he leaned closer, his breath hot and sweet from champagne. "**Do** they look good on me?" he whispered.

She began to stammer. She cursed her awkwardness. She pretty much had the dictionary memorized and yet she still couldn't for the life of her grasp the fundamentals of flirty banter.

"Because, I think…**this**…looks divine on you," he continued, his slender finger delicately tracing the large bauble around her neck.

That necklace was probably worth more than her life. Hermione wasn't an expert on assessing jewelry prices, but she was pretty sure it was around that area. It was gorgeous. It was luxurious. It was …**shiny**.

The chain was made from sparkling platinum, thick and smooth. At the center was teardrop yellow diamond the size of a gumball, at least five carats. Framing the large gem on each side were three teardrop shaped emerald-cut diamonds, clustered together and spreading out like a fan. It went well with her creamy skin and sparkled like mad.

It must have cost Blaise a fortune. And it probably didn't even dent his wallet, much less his savings. When she first laid eyes on it, her mind couldn't even process that this treasure was for her. And that she would get to wear it. For the rest of her life if she wanted to. It was too much of a gift from someone she only just now started to get to know. She felt guilty and really didn't want to accept it. What was she to give him in the future? A gift certificate? That wasn't fair.

But he insisted. She had weakly protested until he finally took things into his own hands and clasped the necklace around her slender neck. She touched it constantly throughout the party, still reeling from it. Hermione couldn't believe it when she began to doubt the sincerity of his gift. She had wondered, somewhat bitterly, how many other women did he give gifts like this to? Was it like a normal bloke getting a girl chocolates and flowers? Did he just randomly wave his hand and picked someone out of some jewelry store, or did this actually have meaning and significance to him too? Was this how all rich men gave gifts to just anyone?

Hermione had sighed, downing a whole flute of champagne to ease her thoughts. She was being ridiculous. Why couldn't she just be happy for once? Why did she always have to think the worst in people, to always second-guess everything?

Now, as Blaise awaited an answer from her, she had another issue at hand. Such as, what exactly was he insinuating when he gave her such a gift? She was interrupted – saved? – from having to answer with Draco coming up to them, with three flutes of champagne in hand.

"One more time Granger, before lights out, eh?" he said with a smirk, his gaze on Blaise. "You too mate, help me kill off these things."

Blaise returned the look. though his eyes were blazing. "Lightweight?" he asked teasingly, taking two of the glasses and handing one to Hermione. Draco and Blaise wordlessly clinked their glasses and downed the bubbly.

"Oh, I really shouldn't, I already had two glasses," Hermione stuttered, somewhat relieved to see Malfoy. Her face was burning and her whole innards felt hot and woozy. From the champagne perhaps?

"Only two? And on your birthday? You have to drink at least a few more," Draco insisted.

'No no, I better not," she said, handing her glass to Draco, who refused to take it back. She frowned and shoved it in front Blaise. He easily took it out of her hands and drank all of it for her. It might have been her imagination, but did he seem….a bit gloating when he handed the empty flute back to Malfoy?

Draco's eyes stormed as he grabbed the glass.

"I'll go get you another one," he muttered, turning around to get more glasses.

"No, Malfoy, I've had enough," she called to his unresponsive back. Stubborn wanker. When he returned, he once again held out a full glass of champagne for her to drink. Just looking at that yellow, bubbly liquid made her feel dizzy and she swayed on her feet.

Suddenly, she felt a cool, solid body from behind steady her, a large hand warmly grasping her upper arm. She sighed, recognizing that scent anywhere. The scent of leather and fresh pine. His other hand lithely plucked the glass from Malfoy's hand and he too drank the champagne for her.

"Yeah, no Malfoy, she's done for tonight," his clear voice stated.

"Interesting Potter, didn't know her father came to the party tonight wearing your skin," Draco bit out.

Harry grimaced, his grip on Hermione tightening. "Shows how much you know about her. Getting Hermione drunk is definitely something you don't want to do."

"Or else what, Potter?" Blaise asked softly, his eyes hard.

"Oi, who wants to get Hermione drunk, say aye!" Harry called out, his eyes never leaving them.

Whoever was left in the room gave out vehement nays, a few backing away quickly. "Sweet Mother of Joseph in heaven, are ye mad, man!?" Seamus cried out before falling back into slumber.

At the overwhelming evidence that Hermione should not, under any circumstances, drink anymore, Harry smirked. "You wouldn't like her when she's drunk."

"I would say Draco doesn't rightly like her when she's sober either," Blaise said glibly as he began to walk away. Dealing with people was such a pain. "Why don't the two of you work out your differences and call me when things are less troublesome."

Thus leaving the three. Hermione bit back another sigh. These two would be the death of her. She couldn't quite understand their relationship. It went from hating each other at school to hating each other now, but somewhere in between….she could have sworn they got along. Didn't they? Damn, her mind was too fuzzy right now, she could barely hang on to what they were saying now.

"… –ere's your gift, Malfoy? Don't tell me you came empty-handed."

"Don't be silly Harry, it's Malfoy, he doesn't do gifts. Besides, this room was nice enough, don't you think?" Hermione said, turning to look at Harry.

His hand on her arm stayed firm, lightly pulling her towards his body.

"Actually, I did pick up a little something for you," Malfoy said casually. Hermione's eyes bulged. Will wonders never cease.

"What is it?" Harry and Hermione asked at the same time. While they shared a rueful smile, Draco curled his lip in disdain.

"It's somewhere around here," he said distractedly as he looked around trying to find it. As he began to walk around, Hermione wrenched herself from Harry's grip to follow him. Her curiosity had to be satisfied. It was one of her little quirks.

"Hermione!" Harry called out.

She shot him a smile over her shoulder. "Don't worry Harry, I doubt he's going to hex me." She then looked thoughtfully at Malfoy. "You're not….right?"

He barked out a laugh. "No, not tonight Granger."

Once they reached a corner of the room with a window he stopped and opened it. He poked his head outside and made a whistle.

Nothing.

"….thank..you?" she ventured hesitantly.

"No, Granger, 'nothing' is not your gift, okay, just have a little patience," he grumbled.

A gush of wind and a black…something swooped into the room and landed on Draco's muscular arm. Hermione's mouth hung open, speechless.

"I figured a witch without a familiar is a pretty sad sight and I know you'd never pick out another one out anytime soon so I did the honors," he said with a shrug, lightly stroking the bird's breast.

It was large, beautiful, midnight black raven. It squawked, turning to Hermione. With a graceful push, it lightly flew off of Draco's arms and onto hers. It was magnificent.

"T…Thank you, Malfoy," she managed to choke out. How in the world did he know?

Suddenly, Blaise's gift paled in comparison. A present of jewelry became cold and impersonal. She had been in need of a new familiar, but it was true, she couldn't get past looking for a new one without thinking of her Crookshanks. She wondered how much thought Malfoy put into this gift. There must have been some. Otherwise why else would he go out of his way to go to a shelter and pick out something other than a cat? He must have known she would never accept another cat besides her dearly departed. He must have known that ravens were much like over-aged, grouchy, unwanted cats. And that she liked to save and love unwanted creatures. Ravens were loud, picky, unruly familiars with a sinister look to them – not the most fashionable creature to have around.

Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them out, owing her reaction to her grief over Crookshanks. The raven lightly nipped her hair and she smiled, petting it. "I think I'll name you Nyx," she cooed softly. Nyx crowed in approval. Hermione laughed.

She looked up at Malfoy, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. "Thank you," she said again, more firmly and sincerely. "This is…the best present I could ever hope for."

He merely looked at her, his face blank, his eyes calculating.

"DOES THE BIRTHDAY GIRL HAVE ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE WE ALL ATTEMPT TO FIND OUR WAY HOME?!" Fred's voice boomed from the center of the ballroom.

Hermione turned her head at the sudden noise. Nyx beat its wings and lightly pulled her hair before swooping out the window. Hermione knew that meant it would be waiting for her outside whenever she was ready.

"Er…" she said, always awkward with speeches. Everybody leaned it.

"Thank you all for coming," she began, uncertain what to say. "Thank you to everybody who made this memorable and forced me to be festive for once in my life. Get home safe and for those of you that had coats, they're all on the bed in my room upstairs for you to pick up. You can all thank Ron for getting me that suite for a night of luxury. Thank you again, and goodnight!"

Everyone clapped and cheered. Hermione quickly rushed to the doors to kiss everybody goodbye.

Draco still hadn't moved.

* * *

Hermione sighed with contentment. Truly, was there nothing better than this?

As she popped one of the many bubbles in her bubble bath, she couldn't think of anything else. The warm candle lights quivering in the large bathroom, the old-fashioned kidney bean shaped bathtub filled to the brim with honey-scented bath foam, and the light sheen of steam that kissed her exposed shoulders and neck. Her hair was in a sloppy bun piled atop her head, a few tendrils loose and wetly sticking her to neck. All of this ambiance seeped into her bones and turned her to jelly.

Maybe Ron was right, she should treat herself more often.

At the thought of Ron, she heard the door to her room open and shut with some rustling on the bed. That must be him getting his coat – he was the last one to leave after all.

"Ron?" she called out, her voice echoing in the bathroom.

No answer. More rustling.

"Darling, if you can't find your coat, it might be on the floor underneath the bed," she continued. "If not, I'll look for it later and give it to you tomorrow when we have brunch."

The rustling stopped.

Hermione listened for a little bit, not sure if he left yet. "Ron, did you leave yet?"

Still no answer. She shrugged. "If you're still here, do you mind bringing in the bathrobe you see on the chair? The door's not locked." When she didn't get a response she merely lifted one of her smooth legs up to lather with some of the foam. Oh well.

Abruptly the door to the bathroom opened behind her. Without turning around, she merely raised her leg higher and waggled it a bit. "Look, the foam changes color when it gets colder," she said playfully, blissfully unaware the man behind her wasn't Ron.

"Do you let just any man into your bathroom or am I just that special?" Draco asked coldly, his deep voice resonating throughout the bathroom.

She whipped her head around and yelped, quickly submerging her entire body save her head into the bath. Water splashed onto the tiles.

"Malfoy!" she screeched. "What the hell are you doing in here? GET OUT!"

"You seemed just fine with letting me in a moment ago," he countered, walking up to the end of her bathtub then turning to face her.

She glowered, her face turning an amazing shade of red. "If you didn't notice, I was saying the name Ron, not Perverted Ferret."

"So it's only the Weasel you let see you naked," he observed, his voice tight.

"No," she bit out, "it's a bubble bath, you can't see anything."

"Really," he breathed, the way he said it was like a challenge.

She quickly gathered the foam around her and sat in a fetal position. Better safe than sorry; she was pretty sure he couldn't see anything, but the fact that she was naked regardless was very unnerving. "Okay, ha ha ha, very funny, you saw lowly Granger in the tub, you can go now," she managed to say, her embarrassment preventing her from even talking properly. "Joke's over, Malfoy."

When he didn't say anything, she forced herself to look him in the face, ready to scream for him to get the flaming hell out of her bathroom. But the words died on her lips when she saw him. His eyes were glazed over, looking at her like she was some kind of….meal. The intensity of his gave caused her to curl up even tighter.

He sat down on the edge of the tub, leaning precariously into the water.

"_He wouldn't dare….,_" she thought numbly.

Then, almost surreally, he slowly began to get into the tub with her. One leg at a time, unhurried. Unaware, uncaring that he was still fully dressed. Hermione looked at him in horror, too shocked to do anything, too naked to go anywhere. She could only look in morbid fascination as the water seeped into his pants, turning them dark and slick.

This was a nightmare, a drunken vision. It had to be.

There was no way Draco Malfoy was slowly entering the bathtub with her still in it.

But he was. His eyes never leaving her face. Once his upper body was also submerged in water, he began to leisurely lurch forward, his legs pushing off the back of the tub, his hands sliding down the edges of the tub. Hermione managed to snap out of it and tried to push herself as far away from him as possible, forgetting for a moment that she was already leaning up against the front of the tub.

In a final push, he swiftly leaned forward and captured her in his arms, his left winding around her back to grasp her left shoulder, his right hand gripping her right upper arm. Before she could kick him away, he managed to knock her legs apart and rest between them. As she struggled, she realized she couldn't fight him like this.

If anything, it looked like it was encouraging him. His eyes got wilder and his grip tightened the more she struggled.

"Malfoy – MALFOY! Stop it! What are you doing?!" she screamed, beating his back with her one fist; a futile gesture, she knew. Hermione was horrified to feel his hard chest press onto her soft breasts, flattening them, making it hard for her to breathe.

He moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, forcing her arch up into him as he began to slather her smooth column with his wet, hot tongue. Though she continued to struggle, every now and then she froze, the feelings on her neck indescribably good. He bit where the neck and shoulder connect, making her cry out.

How did he know her neck was so sensitive and it felt so good to touch it?

"Do you miss it?" he whispered fiercely in her ear as his other hand began to fondle one of her breasts. "Has anyone made you feel this way since then?"

Hermione could barely hear his mad ramblings over the roaring rush in her ears and the pounding in her heart. She moaned when he twisted and pinched her rosy nipple. She couldn't understand what he meant. _Miss it_? _Since then_? What did he mean?

She gripped his shoulder tightly as he licked and nibbled on her ear, forgetting she was supposed to be pushing him away. Hermione could feel a large rush to the apex between her legs, a tightening and tingling she had only dreamed about. Draco's mouth moved down to suckle her other breast, his talented tongue flicking and lavishing her other nipple. She could help but let another moan escape her lips.

What was he doing to her?

Why did it feel so wonderful?

Her eyes opened with panic as she felt one of his hands move down to lightly brush against her opening. She tried instinctively to close her legs but as he was between them, they only served to squeeze him all the more tighter.

"N-noo," she rasped, throwing her head back in ecstasy as he continued to suck on her nipple.

He release her pert breast and returned to her neck, kissing, licking biting; moving up and down and across, up to her jaw and down to her collarbone.

"I can't," he ground out almost painfully, his eyebrows furrowed with torture. He encased her even tighter, his knee rubbing a delicious friction upon her womanhood. "I can't stop…"

As he continued his mind-blowing administrations, Hermione eyes opened again. In front her eyes, however, played out images she would later swear she had never seen before. Memories she had never experienced before. Words she had never heard before.

"…_.so that's the way it has to be. Do you think you can handle it?"_

"_Relax Granger, it's not supposed to hurt. It's not **going** to hurt."_

"_Any word from the target yet?"_

"_You stay in here, do you understand me? I can't let you out. Not yet. Not now."_

"_**Strip**."_

_So many hands on her. Smooth hands. Rough hands. Caressing her, up and down her body. Gripping, slapping, pinching, rubbing. It was too much for her._

_The room was dark, illuminated only by a small window. Outside was snowing hard, the sky gray and chilling. She should get off the floor soon. He would be coming back soon. As soon as she thought that, the door slammed open, light spilling into their tiny room. She looked at him with sad eyes. He was clean, but still filthy. He smelled freshly showered, no doubt he wanted to wash away the dirt and grime and blood as soon as possible. But she could still smell it on him. he looked weary, haggard, angry. He always looked like this afterwards. Lately more-so. He needed release. She could tell. He was already unbuttoning his wrinkled uniform shirt, his eyes burning holes into her. At least he wasn't yelling at her today. Not like last time. With shaking hands, she removed what little clothing she had on and climbed onto the large bed. He grabbed her and threw her onto her back, his hand gripping her so hard she knew there'd be bruises later. As he began to unbuckle his belt, as she just laid there, she looked into his eyes. He stopped what he was doing and looked back at her._

_His eyes were so dark they were black._

_Her hand closed into a tiny fist, but she forced the rest of her body to remain limp._

_He needed this._

_Outside, the snow stopped._

Hermione gasped, as if breathing in air after an eternity under water. Draco's eyes were purple with madness, crackling with lightning within them. Her eyes grew wide and she began her struggles anew. This time more frantic. More desperate.

He forced her to be still, searching her face. His own eyes widened as revelation dawned on him and he began to shake her.

"What do you remember?!" he cried out almost desperately. "**What do you remember?!**!"

When she didn't respond, couldn't respond, he gripped her even tighter, shook her even harder. Hermione panicked. What could she do? What was she supposed to say?

And then, her mouth moved, seemingly on its own. Words she never thought she spoke before bubbled from her throat. It was like being taken over by another entity. Like a latent memory taking hold of her. A Pavlovian response, done out of instinct. Without thought. Without reason.

"**No you're killing me!**" she cried, these alien words pouring out of her mouths. Alien, but familiar. Like she had said them before. Like this had happened before.

Miraculously, Draco froze. The water that was thrashing around them like a mad sea calmed instantly. The air around them cooled their exposed skin. They laid there, looking at each other, eyes wide and questioning. What were they doing? What had just happened? The slow drip of the sink across them faintly echoed through the room, the only noise besides their heavy breathing.

After staring at her intently for a few more moments, he blinked and his eyes returned to normal. No more mad, unreachable sheen. His normal, clear gray eyes shone back. He was human again. He was reasonable again.

Draco immediately dragged himself out of the bathtub; as soon as he removed himself, steam and vapor began hissing and rising out of his clothes. He was so shaken he couldn't control his wandless magic and his clothes began drying on their own.

Hermione could only sit there in her now foamless tub, shaking, too scared to make a sudden move. She watched the blonde-haired man pace back and forth and around, barely able to hear him mumbling to himself, his words getting more frantic as he continued.

"…_shit shit fuck! Keep it together keep it together fuck shut up…"_

She jumped when he slammed one fist into the tiled wall, cracking some of the ceramic platings. The other hand was fiercely pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally he took a deep breath and shook his shoulders. When he looked back at her, he was the Draco Malfoy she was used to, albeit more haggard. He walked up to her with clear, confident steps, kneeling next to her. Hermione tensed up, not sure what to expect next.

"Forget this ever happened," he said gruffly, with an underlying tone of barely contained anger. "Just forget it."

When she didn't respond, he slammed the edge of the bathtub out of frustration and for emphasis. She pushed herself back even more, crossing her arms even tighter across her chest.

"Nothing happened!" he yelled. Without waiting for her response, he turned and slammed the bathroom door behind him. A few seconds later, she heard the suite door closing in the same fashion.

Hermione continued to stare at the door.

What on earth just happened?

* * *

**_ PS - Hi to all ffnet you readers! Glad to hear you're liking my silly little fic. For those of you that actually care, the site I always update first is on (http://hpadultfanfictionnet/storyphp?no544178678) , but I know some people aren't familiar with that site. I'm very nervous about because they have (or at least, they HAD) a habit of just deleting stories that don't meet their criteria without any warning, which is what I think they're going to do to this story soon (not yet though). Why? Oh, because things are going to get raunchy and dark and "adult" which obvious this site doesn't approve of. So yeah, just to let you all know, if you find this story missing a few chapters down, just head on over to the affnet site and it should be there in all of its...well, not glory, but you know what I mean. Cheers!_**

**_ -SnowFlakeImp_**

OH MY GOD I FINALLY FINISHED!! Sorry for getting this out so late! My muse when missing and didn't return for a long time.

SO, what did you all think??? I won't talk much here – if you want to read more of my thoughts, please stop on my livejournal page (http://snowflakeimplivejournalcom)for my complete ramblings and such later on. Thank you all for staying with this story! Especially for the reviewers! You don't know how happy it makes me to get one, even more so when they're long and thoughtful and a lot of seem to never review that much at all, so YES, I am definitely honored!

Again, I hope the smutty scene was actually hot, since I feel pretty embarrassed and inexperienced in the world of sex scenes. Nevertheless, be prepared for more of that later on. A lot more, actually.

I am really excited to get this chapter out of the way because FINALLY all of my groundwork has ended. No more building up, leaving little crumbs, trying to convey a person's personality and quirks, showing not tell – we're done with that. If you can't get a good grasp of how I want my characters to be portrayed, well, FIRSTLY: DAMMIT, secondly: too bad, I'm too impatient to build up their characters any longer! I want this story to get rolling! It's like all this time we're on a roller coaster ride, slowly inching up that incline, wondering, waiting when the hell we're going to descend into fast, fun times. Starting next chapter, prepare for the PLUNGE. MUAHAHAHAHA

THANKS AGAIN for all your support and PLEASE let me know what you think/predict! I love hearing them.

* * *


	13. Bubbling Underneath

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I really don't have anything wittier to say about not owning Harry Potter, which worries me. Has my delicious wit, my fabulous creativity, run dry?? Say it ain't so!

* * *

Diary Entry No. 55, Vol. V

I really hate to keep harping on about this shit business, like some pretentious novelist trying to tie in everything important with a mere word, but that **_damn_** word consistently pops up wherever I go.

It's not that right now my life is in the proverbial privy, but it definitely is not a bag full of giggles either. On second thought, there must be at least someone, somewhere out there having a giggle at my expense. Curse them all. I'd like to know who decided it would be amusing to torture me so. Did I not wish for a boring, uneventful, normal life? I'm pretty sure I did. No, I'm sure of it. I wrote it down somewhere in this diary, in case written proof needs to be procured.

I really…….I really can't make heads or tails of this. Was it all some strange, terrible dream? It certainly feels like it at times. It was so bizarre, so out of place, ending so abruptly – I could have sworn it was a drunken imagination gone all wrong. Every cell in my body is screaming that in no possible way could that have occurred. Every bit of my pragmatic side is lecturing me, telling me that there is too much evidence to prove that what happened was possible.

But it did happen.

And I don't know why. I don't even know where to start thinking about it, to try to make sense of it. The threads of my sanity are being strained with effort. Too many questions are swimming in my mind. Why. How. What. Why, again.

Forgetting that…..**_bastard's_** motivation, I can't even attempt to think about me right now. What did I see? What did I feel? What _do_ I feel? These are questions that I'm afraid to ask, because I'm afraid of the answers that they will bring. Like the opening of a Pandora's box. Like purposefully entering into a hurricane. Of course I want to get down to the root of things, to find out what in blazes in going on around here. But at the same time, I want to follow his, er, demands and just forget about it. Pretend that it never happened. Move on with my life.

The problem with that is I don't know what to do with Malfoy. He's been of no help, as usual. For the past few days that I've mustered up the courage to go to work, he has been avoiding me like the plague. It's hard to describe but it's different than the last time, when we had that row about Alex. This time, there's…..a coldness. Something chilling separating us. For once, I'm scared to approach him. I'm scared of what he might say or God forbid, what he might do. I'm wondering if I should tell someone about this, like Harry. The problem is, I'd have to tell him. And then I'll _find out things_. And then Harry will find out things. And then blood will be shed. I should develop a better plan than that before doing anything rash.

One thing about me that really annoys me is my curiosity. My life would be a whole lot easier if I didn't have this urgent need to satisfy it all the time. Because of this vexing trait, I know my feet will soon lead me to him but for now, I'm glad for the distance. I'd rather just shove everything all under the carpet until I'm prepared to deal with it.

Merlin, what a mess.

Speaking of messes, that reminds of another one I'm in…..

* * *

She wasn't falling for Blaise. Not even a little bit. Well, of course she **felt** something. That man was beautiful after all. He made her flush, stammer, made her heart race. But those were all natural reactions. She would have felt the same way had the statue of David came to life and handed her a bouquet of daisies.

And that was it. He was like a living, breathing work of art. Breathtaking, but untouchable. Something to be admired from afar. He just didn't……._touch_ her. It was like he wasn't human. Perfect from every angle, inside and out. There wasn't any attraction, just an objective appreciation of him.

Hermione moaned.

Don't tell her she needed a man with…..flaws. Oh gods, how predictable if true. Not only did she feel compelled to save downtrodden magical creatures all the time, but must she also prefer a human Crookshanks equivalent to save and nurture? What a bleak outlook. In any case, mate theories aside, she had to focus on the issue at hand!

What was she going to do? Well, she had to let him down gently. And she had to return the necklace. Only decent thing to do. Yes, she had to give back that big thing of shiny, what with its shininess and shining-like shine – focus! – but how was she supposed to do it? Who was she, Plain Jane Hermit Hermione, to reject someone like Blaise Zabini? It was unheard of.

But it was the right thing to do. She wasn't about to lie to herself and some bloke just because society dictates that she should be ecstatic with her outrageous lottery win. She had to let him know. If he wasn't all crazy, Malfoy would have been the perfect person to talk to about this sort of thing. Damn him.

* * *

"_Damn her_," Draco thought as he stumbled across his bedroom.

He clumsily opened up a desk drawer, revealing vials upon vials of glowing red liquid. He picked one up with a cold, clammy hand and stared at it.

Hating it. Needing it.

Damn her, damn him, damn them all. Did they think this was easy for him? That this **_potion_** was the cure all, save all to his problems? They didn't know anything. Not a damn thing. He hated this. Every single minute of it since he could remember.

It was torturous. It was like dangling a piece of meat in front of a starving tiger. Did they really expect for him not to pounce? He set down the vial on top of his desk, running his hand through his hair. A habit of his when he was frustrated.

It wasn't enough anymore. None of it. He looked at the vial, laying there, almost projecting an aura of forced innocence. It made him sick. He picked it up again, pulling the cork out and pressed it to his lips, as if to drink it. After a pause, he sighed and replaced the cork, setting the vial down once again on top of his desk. Draco instead opened a smaller drawer in his desk and took out a small photograph, yellowed and worn with age. He sunk into his chair tiredly.

What did they want from him?

And there he sat, like so many nights, alone in his dark and empty room, behind his large, mahogany desk. Staring at that old picture, mesmerized.

A seventeen year old Hermione Granger was looking away to the side, talking to someone out of the frame. Her smile, her eyes, her demeanor – everything about her was young, without the weight that she carried now. Without the lines, the age, the scars, the look of utter exhaustion she later took on. She was pure, happy and untainted. Then, she turned to the camera, her eyes soft and bright with surprise. A candid shot discovered.

"_Fuck_," he whispered.

* * *

Things were a lot more difficult now that Malfoy had basically closed himself off to the rest of the world. Or to Hermione, at least. Instead of just barging into his office to get his signature for some funding, she now had to give the documents to Ian, who then slipped them to David, to then flirted his way into giving them to the Cheryl, who then passed them on over to Ming, who finally dropped them off to Draco's In-Box.

It was such a waste of time. Typical of government bureaucracy, but it still annoyed Hermione.

She couldn't bring herself to go see him. Not just yet. She tried to work up the nerve, she really did. Twice she had even found herself in front of his office, his door closed, her hand poised to knock.

Gryffindor courage indeed.

To nurse her self-inflicted wounded pride, she hid herself in the dark corner of the break room, sipping on forbidden black, sugarless coffee. The bitterness of the drink helped put her mind at ease. She let out a satisfied sigh.

"_Oh coffee, you would never betray me_," she thought wistfully.

Unfortunately, her little piece of calm was interrupted by the swarm of office girls that decided now would be a good time to catch up on some gossip. Hermione glowered at them, safe in knowing that they probably didn't even notice her when they came in. She hoped they would be quick about it. She didn't want to leave right away but she didn't want to be seen as an eavesdropper either. She would just have to wait until they were finished. What idiotic, stupidly piece of boring information would they share today? Hermione prayed it wasn't too insipid as she didn't want to lose any more brain cells.

"Okay ladies, own up!" a pretty woman of African descent started. "We all swore we'd do this, so no one hold back now. Who…..has been with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione bit back a tiny "eep!" and tried to back away further into the corner. Damn damn damn! Must he come up in every conversation, every thought, every dream –

"_No no, not dream, especially not mine_!" she thought frantically, apparently trying to convince some invisible force of her alleged innocence on this matter. "_I definitely do NOT dream of him and the only reason why I think of him at all is to figure out why he's gone barmy in the head! And then possibly to contact the proper authorities and arrest him._"

Only half true. In reality, she found her mind unwittingly drifting back to that night in bathroom and feeling warm all over. Quite a number of times. She would quickly quash it with a huge inner tirade about the disgustingness of it and her utter disapproval, but it always managed to crawl back into her thoughts. Hermione reddened. She definitely did not want to hear any of this. But her feet refused to move.

Out of the group of nine, six of them raised their hands. They all ooh-ed and pointed and laughed and some even shot a few jealous glares which were quickly hidden and morphed into that of friendliness. One girl, Hermione recognized her as that silly bint in Muggles Relations, giggled. "I know I should be mad he's been with so many girls, especially ones I know, but I'm not!"

Hermione tried not to snort. "_Yes, because you probably consider it such an **honor** that such a popular ladies' man chose you to be a part of his ever-growing harem. Congratulations_," she thought, sneering a little.

"This may be a stupid question," a quiet girl from Accounting began, unfortunately not one of the women who raised their hands, "but what would you rate him in bed?"

"A ten!"

"An eleven!"

"We might as well make that a hundred!" To this statement they laughed in agreement and a few sighed, swooning.

"He's so perfect – even if he was a lousy man in bed just his looks alone rank him at least a seven," one girl pointed out, fanning herself at the memory.

As much as she tried to grit her teeth and mentally sing all the lullaby songs she knew, Hermione felt herself being drawn into the conversation. Her mouth was dry, despite the large mug of coffee in front of her. Something was stirring in her heart, making it pump like mad and her pulse erratic. It was almost as if she felt…..jealous.

"_Which is ridiculous_!" she cried out in her mind. "_Why in the world would I feel jealous! It's revolting!"_

And yet, as they chattered on, singing him so many praises, Hermione felt….possessive. Like they weren't worthy. If only for a moment, she had a flash of thought: _He belonged to her._

"Okay Agnes, you drew the short straw," one of them said. "Tell us what he was like and spare no details!"

"Well," she began, a little embarrassed but hugely proud of herself, "to sum it up in one word, he'd have to be…."

Everybody, including Hermione, leaned forward on the edge of their seats.

"Attentive," she blurted out, much to the delight of the other girls. They hooted and squealed. After calming down a bit, it was unanimously agreed upon that 'attentive' was indeed the perfect word to describe his skills in bed.

"I mean, he's so charming when he takes me out, always says the right things and he always pays for everything," Agnes continued, with the women around her nodding in agreement. "And when we make love" – here Hermione gagged – "he's so gentle and oooh, deliberate!"

"I know what you mean luv, he's so controlled and calm, always knows where to go and what to do," another one chimed in, not at all embarrassed at sharing her intimate details. "He always puts my needs first."

As they continued waxing about his technique, Hermione could only look at them, wide-eyed in disbelief. Gentle? Controlled? **_Calm_**? Were they even talking about the same person? Because she certainly didn't remember him like that. Not that she wanted to remember him at all. But if she had to, she knew that he was aggressive, crazed, barely in control of himself. Carnal, whispering dirty words with abandon.

As if picking up on her thoughts, a forlorn, until then silent, Mindee spoke up. "Are you sure that's a good thing?" her voice devoid of life, her eyes sad. Hermione didn't even notice she was in their group until then.

Long since dumped, she continued dully, "Maybe he's like that because he's devoid of passion."

The girls quieted at this new revelation. "What are you talking about Mindee? Don't sound so glum, he moved on and so should you. We have! And who knows, you may just be pretty enough for him to have another go with," Agnes retorted, not at all pleased at what she was hearing.

Mindee merely shrugged. The problem with Mindee was that she was just a little smarter than most of the girls he dated, but not smart enough to avoid his charm. She noticed things. She thought about things, not just shove them into a locker and convince herself of something that would make her feel better.

The truth was, they all meant nothing to him. And she figured that out a little too late.

Hermione was frozen in her seat, not being able to process what she was hearing. She didn't know how much longer they gossiped, but Mindee's attitude definitely put a strain on the fun of things and they went back to work soon enough. Hermione remained in her seat.

Her heart pounded for a whole different reason. All she could think was:

_What did that make her?_

* * *

"_Stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stopthinkingaboutitstopthinkingaboutit_!" she thought nervously to herself as she managed to walk down the hall in a brisk manner. Perhaps walking faster, to her, would allow her to literally run away from her thoughts.

When she had dared venture her thoughts as to what Malfoy's intentions were, she had entertained the notion that he might have been drunk. Heaven knows once a man was drunk, randiness was soon to follow, if he was a low sort of man. Which Malfoy was. That seemed like a pretty good explanation if one didn't squint too hard. Yes, he drank too much of the bubbly, saw a naked female in the tub and automatically went in for the kill. Once he realized who exactly said female was, he quickly retreated, cursed, and did all he could to make sure the incident never left the room out of embarrassment and disgust.

It was a shame to know , then, that Hermione was an intelligent woman. There were too many holes in this logic and she couldn't accept it, as much as she wanted to. He said something, something that should make **_sense_**, somehow. It was tickling at the back of her memories, just a little bit out of reach.

She was shaken out of her musings by a shattering noise, like someone had thrown a vase against the wall.

Someone **_had_** thrown a vase against the wall.

"Just who do you think you are?!" a watery voice screeched.

Hermione sighed. Well, she had already eavesdropped on one conversation today, why not go for the world's record? She stopped short of passing by Draco's opened doorway and leaned against the wall. Considering how sexy the woman was and how she was an up-and-coming model, she would have thought Malfoy would've kept her longer.

"You can't break up with me! I've walked down all of France's runways and you have the nerve to break up with ME?"

"So should the proper course of action be that _you_ break up with _me_ then?" Draco's amused tone did not sit well with the woman.

"You think this is _funny_? Do I amuse you, Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione didn't hear him saying anything back, so she assumed he made some sort of face that infuriated Renee even more. Soon after she burst into tears, for which Hermione rolled her eyes. If there was one thing Hermione and Draco had in common, it would have to be tears, more specifically, the hate of. Both from their own eyes and others.

She wondered if it was because she grew up as an only child and an isolated one at that. She really didn't have any real friends until she met Harry and Ron and well….they were boys. Comforting people just wasn't her strong point – she was a problem solver, not a nurturer by nature, though she had tried hard in the past to rectify this. It was just too alien to her when people in front of her opened themselves up like a book and let out such raw emotions for all to see. Hermione really didn't know what to do.

She broke out of that train of thought when the argument made a drastic turn. Her heart froze.

"I knew it! I should have listened to all the girls, telling me what a cruel, heartless bastard you really are! I guess it's true what they say, a Death Eater really doesn't change its tattoos!" Renee's voice creaky from tears, but edged with cruel triumph.

Hermione could feel each heartbeat pump, banging into her ribcages one by one. That possibly have the nerve to bring **that** up. Her ears became supersensitive, reaching out, aching to hear what Draco had to say.

"Ah, I've always wondered who started that unoriginal catchphrase – would you care to enlighten me?" though he sounded nonchalant, Hermione could hear the slight, subtle strain in his low voice.

It was taboo to bring up the subject of Death Eaters, especially in front of those who used to be one. Any former Death Eater walking around today was a reformed one, or at least that was what the government called them. To those who were cynical, most of the so-called reformed Death Eaters were the ones who had an iota of a brain cell later on in the War and switched sides to save their hides. Most believed that the Death Eaters who weren't sent to Azkaban or executed were still slimy, evil little maggots that managed to talk and swindle their way into freedom. No doubt if they had the chance, they would renew their criminal lifestyle and the entire war-torn community would have to pay for it.

It got so bad that the Ministry had to step in to prevent hate crimes against them – a cruel irony. A law was later passed, to much controversy, declaring that anyone found guilty of abusing, verbally or otherwise, a pardoned defector of war without provocation was to be sent to Azkaban for six to twenty-eight months, depending on the nature of the crime. A sentence like that was met with much outrage from the public, but the Minister stubbornly refused to budge.

As much as Hermione hated to admit it, out of all of the pardoned Death Eaters, Malfoy was probably one of the most, if not the best, one out of the whole lot. Most of them you could just sense a slick, oiliness to their nature. Like the normal lives that they had taken were mere covers for whatever ambitions they had in their closets. Malfoy had genuinely wished to put the past behind him and had thrown himself into the new world order with one hundred percent sincerity. She knew the pains that came with that Mark. She knew what sacrifices he made during the War. She knew what he carried.

So far, she hadn't notice anyone give him grief about his past, but if anyone were to bring it up…….

It should definitely **_not_** be this stupid, worthless girl.

As Renee continued her rant, Hermione found herself getting more and more irate. Who was she to go on insulting him about his past, about a part of him she had no idea about. A part she couldn't possibly even fathom.

Sure, he had a wandering eye, but at least he treated the girls decently, never insulting them or hitting them – they could have gotten it a lot worse. And although he was a bit cold-hearted, calling him cruel and evil seemed over the top to Hermione. Didn't he shower her with gifts, with affection, letting her do anything her heart desired? He went along with every insipid request she had. He helped raise her status among the wizarding elite. And now she had the gall to bring up **_that_**?!

Hermione's lip curled, getting angrier at each annoying sound Renee was making. Why wasn't he saying anything? Defending himself? Or at the very least, shoot her down – she had definitely left herself open for attacks on almost all subjects. Was he just going to take this? From **her**? This…._nobody_?

She couldn't understand why she was feeling so defensive about this whole affair, when just seconds ago she was cursing him to high hell and back. Shouldn't any kind of act against him please her?

"_It's completely different_!" she thought stubbornly to herself. "_I've been tortured for years and he's done far worse to me than he could ever do to her. It's about seniority, it's about rights! If anybody's going to lay his murky past on him, well….it…it better be **me**_!"

So that was it. It was about possession. She could hate him all she wants but he was off-limits to everybody else. And something was stirring in her. Something primal, something instinctive. But she waited. Thinking that the next word Renee said would be her last. That stepping in prematurely was too extreme. But then….

"Let me see it then! Let me see the proof that you have no heart, you evil, vile monster!" Renee shrieked, the sound of her platform shoes thudding on the carpet.

Hermione's eyes widened. She wouldn't dare.

She didn't have the **_right_**.

Suddenly Hermione found herself in Draco's office, her hand squeezing his left forearm tightly, making sure Renee wouldn't be able to roll the sleeve up to see his Mark. She must have said that last thought out loud, because the other woman was sputtering at her abrupt arrival.

"Who do you think you are, interrupting –" she began before getting ruthlessly cut off.

"Who do you think **you** are, thinking you had the right to see this," she hissed back. Before Renee could get a word in edgewise, Hermione continued, her voice colder than ice.

"You haven't earned that right. You weren't there, suffering with the rest of us! You have no idea what it was like, so don't you **_dare_** go spouting off big, pretty words like cruel, and evil, because you haven't got a clue. Once you've really experienced those words, once you've felt it grip your very soul, then you come back and say those words to his face. Until then, keep your damn hands to yourself."

Her grip on his arm was iron, utterly unrelenting. Renee looked up incredulously to Draco, as if demanding him to remove her so they could resume their fight. But Draco was silent, his eyes straight and unreadable, his mouth grimly set.

He didn't acknowledge her.

Renee was about to step forward to Hermione, but one look at the fierce brunette's expression and she backed away. Knowing that she was beaten, she huffily turned around and began marching out. But she wasn't about to leave with her tail between her legs – she wanted to get in one last shot.

"You damn _war brats_," she spat. "Thinking you're above everybody else just because you played soldier with all the adults. You're not better than me!"

War brats. That was an unkind term given to the younger generation that participated in the War. Those who managed to escape the War came back to discover a whole new subculture, a sort of "in-crowd" that was so tight knit it was impossible to break through. After all, what bonds could be stronger than those who lived and died in war beside each other? Because of the ravages of war, it was understandable that it was difficult for them to reintegrate into normal society, thus they usually holed themselves up with each other, making them seem elitist. The Purge made it easier for them later on, but the term was still flung around from time to time.

The two said nothing as the model stormed out and slammed the door behind her. After a long pause, Hermione was the first to come to her senses. She released his arm slowly, as if her hand was molded onto his arm. When neither of them said anything for awhile, Hermione gruffly offered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to butt in, but you really should have said something."

He didn't reply. He wasn't even looking at her. The air was tense, awkward. She continued.

"I mean, really!" she declared, getting into the heat of things. "Were you just going to stand there and take it? Let her see your Mark like she owned you? Why didn't defend yourself? You should have said something - !"

"Shut up!" he finally roared, glaring at her. Her mouth shut immediately with a clack. She certainly wasn't expecting him to be so hostile, much less lose control to yell at her.

"Why can't you just shut up for once in your life!? Didn't mean to butt in – you knew exactly what you were doing! Damn you Granger, damn you and your stupid, damnable Gryffindor compassion!" he shouted, his words quick and strung together, escaping out of his mouth like a river. "I don't need your charity, I don't need you to pity me and swoop down and save me like some Godforsaken house-elf!"

Forgetting entirely her previous fear of him, she shot back, just as angry, twice as confused, "Oh of course, silly me! How stupid of me to offer help to the likes of you! I should have known you wouldn't be able to appreciate something like kindness. I'm already regretting coming to your defense!"

"Aren't you scared?! Aren't you disgusted? Why are you here, why did you come in and bring yourself into my affairs?" he asked, jumping from one topic to another. There was something desperate about the way he said that, Hermione noticed, even in her rage. Like he was trying to tell her something. But what?

"What are you talking about?! It's very simple Malfoy – you were in trouble, I tried to help you. No I'm not scared of you, but I **am** damned tired of you and your antics! What on earth is the matter with you lately? You're not yourself! Are you in any kind of trouble? If you are, I can help you, you just have to – "

"Shut up! What did I tell you about shutting up! Why can't you just stay out of my life! You're always doing this, tormenting me with your fucking saint routine! If you didn't…..if you never……. God - !" he moaned in agony, halting his pacing and gripped his head, his fingers fisting his fine hair.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She had never seen him so conflicted. She stepped forward, her hand hesitantly reaching out for him. All that business about the bathroom was out the window. Right now he was in pain and she couldn't stand seeing him like this.

"Malfoy, what's wrong, are you okay –" she began softly but was interrupted when he suddenly, forcefully crashed him lips against hers.

Her cry of surprise was muffled as he gripped the sides of her face, cradling them harshly in his large hands. The kiss was hard, demanding, desperate. Almost painful. But it lit something deep in Hermione, something she wasn't aware of until now.

A fire began burning in her.

Just as quickly as the kiss started, he managed to abruptly tear himself away from her with an anguished cry. He walked woodenly towards the door, his back to her. He placed one hand on the door, leaning on it like a crutch, catching his breath. The office was silent save for their harsh breathing, trying to catch a breath. Hermione was frozen in place, her mouth slightly opened.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, his hand slid down to the doorknob, turning it, but not yet opening the door.

Without looking at her, he said quietly, raggedly:

"_You're **destroying **me, Hermione_."

And with that he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure how she continued the rest of the day. She wasn't sure how she got home or how she managed to slip into bed. It was like her brain shut down and her body moved mechanically. Her mind tried to wander back to Malfoy's office to try to figure out what happened, but her mental fortitude proved stronger and she forced herself not to think about. How she managed to fall asleep, she may never know.

She was awakened from her dreamless sleep around eight in the morning with a loud tapping at her window. Hermione groaned. "_In the name of the Queen_," she thought groggily. "_This had better be good_."

With hair sticking out everywhere, she shuffled to her window and opened it, managing to open one eye. A large, regal owl swooped in, dropped an envelope off and just as quickly left. Which was strange, as most owls waited for the recipient to respond with a letter of their own.

She fumbled with the envelop for a bit until she managed to rip it open. Her heart sank. Well, it was only a matter of time, after all.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I was wondering perhaps, if you would do me the honor of joining me for brunch at the Garden Villa. I must confess, I have been thinking about you these past few days and I wish to speak to you about certain matters. I hope to see you soon._

_Always,_

_Blaise Zabini_

Hermione sighed. She wondered if they were going to have the infamous "Talk" that couples often refer to, usually with much dread. Even though she was uneasy about what she had to say, in a way she was glad for it. This dilemma was a welcomed distraction.

As she was dressing, she couldn't help but grumble at having to wake up so early on a weekend. Blasted aristocrats. In her experience, the stereotypical "lazy noble," where people pictured the elite as slothful socialites that didn't wake up until two in the afternoon and frittered their days away, was entirely not true. She found that even though they indeed partied into the wee hours of the night, they somehow managed to wake up around six in morning, sipping from their priceless tea sets and reading the morning paper. They were energetic and spry, ready to take the day by the horns and make the best of things. How did they do it? If Hermione had to live their lifestyle for a week, she would have been a frazzled mess.

After taking a scrutinizing look at herself in the mirror, she squared her shoulders. Time to go.

* * *

The brunch was lovely – light yet filling, with a wonderful view to go along with it. Though it was obvious both of them had important things they needed to say, nevertheless Blaise steered the conversation so that it was cheerful and delightful. At times Hermione wondered if perhaps she was being too rash and that she should give him a chance.

But then he would look at her, usually with a certain **_intent_**, and a cold chill would work its way up her spine. A foreboding sense would wash over her.

As they were taking a leisurely stroll around the beautiful garden, talking about nothing, Hermione was only half paying attention to what he was saying, opting for strengthening her resolve and egging herself on to let him know how she felt.

At last, she blurted out, "Blaise, there's something I have to tell you!"

He looked at her in surprise, her outburst unexpected. He quickly smiled that easy smile of his and motioned for her to sit down on a nearby bench. After courteously wiping the bench for her with his handkerchief, they both sat down. She took a deep breath.

"Er, I don't really know how to put this, exactly, but I think we're – "

Blaise quickly interjected excitedly. "I think I know what you're saying and I completely agree!"

" – not right – wait, what?" she sputtered, quickly catching on to what he just said.

"Trust me _cara_, I've been dying to say something for a long time, but out of respect for you I have restrained myself," he said sincerely, his eyes bright.

Hermione shifted her eyes. "I see….," she mumbled, not quite sure what to make of this. Was it really her great fortune to have him feel the same thing as her? She was doubtful. She was not, in her opinion, a very lucky person. She was suspicious, wondering if they were really talking about the same thing.

"Be that as it may," she said cautiously, "I still think I should tell you that I – "

He silenced her gently and gripped her hands. She noticed how warm and soft they were, unlike….

"Let us continue this discussion somewhere more….discreet?" he offered, squeezing her hands.

Throat dry, she managed a quick nod. Without letting go of her hands he stood up, getting Hermione to rise with him. She couldn't help but notice that as they were walking, he continued to hold on of her hands. She had a sinking feeling they weren't on the same page. Once they stopped in front of his beautiful black coach, she worked up the voice to ask, "Blaise, where exactly are we going?"

He looked at her in amusement, tilting his head a little. "Why, a hotel of course."

"W-why a….a hotel?"

He laughed easily and stroked her hair affectionately. "Darling, being this coy really does suit you. Isn't it obvious? I thought we were going to….pick up where we last left off."

Suddenly things turned chilly. Hermione wasn't sure if it was her active imagination taking over or not, but she could swear the air turned colder and the sun became obscured with gray clouds. She was slowly becoming more and more frightened, starting from the tips of her toes all the way up to her scalp.

"I-I don't know what you're…"

"Oh _cara, mi fai impazzire_," he whispered huskily, pulling her close and pressing his cheek against the top of her head. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you. All this time, I was worried you couldn't remember, but now I know…"

She was too shocked to move. What was he saying? He could feel her body shivering and he wrapped his strong arms around her. When he felt her tense up, he held her at arms length, smiling at her, thinking that would ease her worries. It only increased it. He lifted her chin with a crooked finger.

"You are…." he said softly, gazing upon her face. He suddenly frowned and turned her head slightly from side to side, as if examining her. He appeared satisfied after a bit and smiled again. "You really are….quite beautiful."

Hermione gulped. She managed to take a few steps back, her arms crossed in front of her as if protecting herself. "Blaise please, I don't understand! What is going on?" she asked imploringly. Why did it seem like every man in her life had a terrifying secret she couldn't even begin to comprehend?

"Don't tell me you really don't remember?" he asked incredulously, laughing a bit as if the thought was absurd. At the look on her face, he knitted his eyebrows. "But that doesn't make any sense. At first I **did** think you and Draco couldn't ……but I'm sure Draco remembers, so why don't you….?"

"What are you talking about?!" she practically shouted, tired of forever being in the dark about everything. She was tired of being confused. She was tired of feeling this way. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

They stood there facing each other with a light breeze passing by them. And then, Blaise began to chuckle. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wet with frustration. His chuckling turned to laughter and she had a very, very bad feeling about all of this.

He casually walked up to her and softly cradled her face, making her fully look up at him. His eyes were glowing like molten amber, his smile amused with an edge of…**_something_**.

"You don't remember, do you," he said quietly, not really asking a question. It seemed as though he had finally figured everything out.

"**You don't remember a thing.**"

* * *

WHOOOW. That was a tough chapter for me, mainly because it was all……seriousssss. I was feeling a bit bad that there wasn't (and probably won't be for awhile) any really funny bits to this part, but then I remembered that even in comedies, there's usually a section in the middle that is all seriousness (the climb to the climax, if you will) that later will climb back up to funniness. So enjoy this descent into darkness, things will be looking up soon enough!

Thank you all for putting up with me and my silly ideas and less that stellar writing abilities. I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though things don't really get explained, but things definitely do get REVEALED. I was worried that this chapter was going to be super short, but it's actually decently sized!

Apologies for all you Italian speakers, I'm afraid I have botched up your language once again. _Mi fai impazzire_ from what I stole off the internet, this is SUPPOSED to mean something along the lines of, "you drive me crazy." Please correct me if I'm wrong. I know I messed things up in previous chapters, but thanks to your suggestions once I do a complete revision on the whole story I will change my mistakes.

Your comments really warmed me and I hope I can keep your respect and loyalty in chapters to come. Thank you in advanced for reading and especially if you comment. Although again, I do feel a little sorry for your kids, hahahaha. Be like Hermione and just throw some candy or food in the air and let them fend for themselves while you read my story.

The next chapter will be up…..sometime….I'm not sure when, but please, again, check out my LiveJournal page to read up on either more of my ramblings or for when I'm about to update (http://snowflakeimplivejournalcom) who is a wonderful supporter of my story and an excellent writer asked a few questions so I thought I might as well share the answers with you all, in case you were thinking of the same things.

**Did the "pink" accident ever get explained because if it did, I've missed it twice now!** –

Hehe no, the "diluted red" accident never got explained and I intend to keep it that way. That way, it becomes as terrifying and as gruesome as the reader's imagination. It also makes it more fun to reference to later on, without actually giving away what happened. I find people's imaginations are much stronger and creative than anything I can dish out.

**Can you maybe re-word the bathtub scene, how they are positioned? I read that about 3-4 times and tried to get a visual, but had difficulty**. –

Sigh. Once again my writing skills defeat me. Booo. Sorry folks, you must have been confused as well. I'll try to make it more readable, but for now, I'll try to help you out with my miserable skillz: Let's just say the "front" of the bathtub is where the faucet is, and the back is the other end. Then let's say the front of the bathtub is pointing to the door of the bathroom. Okay, so what I was trying to get at was Hermione's back is to the door and to the faucet, but she is sitting in the "front" of the bathtub (that's why she couldn't tell who came in initially).

THEN Malfoy comes to sit down on the edge, facing her but near the "end" of the bathtub. As he enters, he's facing her, and as he submerges himself, he's kind of floating belly-down with his feet at the end of the tub. Basically, their backs are to their respective ends of the bathtub and they're facing each other.

If you need more help, I can try to make a crude drawing, but I warn you my drawing skills are rubbish.

Hope that clears up a lot of confusion!

Stay tuned next time, where things finally get raunchy (WITH Blaise in it, but probably not in a situation you're imagining) and Draco's character gets revealed even more. Muahahhaha see you all soon and have a lovely holiday!

GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR TESTS!


	14. Betrayal

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Wait, I've got it – why don't I just say I DON'T own Harry Potter, and then people can NOT pay me for this story?? WOW, that's so genius! It so like, totally works in MY favor!

Warning: I know I wrote for most chapters that it was NC-17, but I thought of the warnings as for the WHOLE story, not the individual chapters. So while Chapter 1 could be rated maybe a PG-13 or even a PG, this chapter is DEFINITELY NC-17.

You have been warned.

* * *

Hermione couldn't speak. If she were able to move, she would have been positively shaking.

Blaise swept his eyes down her body, a bulge in her coat pocket catching his attention. Without hesitation or attention to personal space, he reached into her pocket and removed a rather large jewelry box. He clucked his disapproval with a smirk.

"Now now, don't tell me you were actually considering giving this back to me? Not when it looks so delicious on you?" he asked playfully, tucking the box back into her pocket.

Hermione managed to stutter, trying to explain her actions. "I-I didn't mean to….I just thought that … – "

"No, you keep it," he said firmly, brushing back a few stray hair that blew across her face.

"Just….didn't think it was proper…we're….you know…," she muttered, looking away. She couldn't look at him anymore.

"Proper?" Blaise repeated, his tone amused yet obviously astonished. "**_Proper_**?"

Hermione blushed, not liking where this was going. Her heart was hammering into her chest. She could barely hear him.

"If you wish to discuss **_proper_**, my dear," he said, putting emphasis on the word like it was a joke, "then you should include neither me nor you in that same sentence."

"I…I don't understand," she said miserably, wringing her hands together.

"No, of course you wouldn't," he cooed sympathetically. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hot against her face. His breath smelled of the Ceylon tea they drank an hour ago.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it will all come back to you," he whispered, his soft lips brushing against hers teasingly. "And when it does, I will find you. _And we will finished what we started_."

She was afraid to breathe.

Suddenly the very image of a friendly face, he backed away but not before taking one of her hands and kissing it softly. After releasing her, he opened the door to his carriage and began to step in. Before he closed the door, however, he turned to look down at her. His smile was positively sinful, his eyes blazing. He gave a small laugh.

"I say that, but know that I can only wait so long," he said as his parting words. "_Ciao, bella_."

Even after he was long gone, Hermione stood there in the middle of the road, unable to comprehend even a word of what had just transpired.

* * *

Draco wondered if it was Friday already. It felt odd, not being at the Ministry during working hours, but this was too important to put off. He hadn't much time left, he knew. If he didn't do this now, who knew what might happen.

Blaise was right, it **had** been a long time since he had last been to his estate. The place looked completely different. Sure, the mansion was still the traditional white-cream marble with light green trimmings, but the surrounding garden had been completely revamped. Before, the garden was very standard, very English with the red roses, stone fountains and neatly pebbled paths. But now that Blaise's mother had been widowed, again, for the ninth time (under innocent circumstances, he was sure), she was free to decorate however she pleased for the time being.

Tropical flowers flown in from exotic locations engulfed the front garden, becoming a beautiful, lush forest in which to travel through to get to the main entrance. Draco swore there was a charm cast to make the surrounding temperature humid. Once he reached the grandiose main doors, he knocked briskly three times.

A comely young maid opened the door shyly, her head bowed. "Good afternoon, Lord Malfoy. Of what service could I be for you today?"

Draco had to hold back a laugh. Though the girl spoke modestly, he could hear the implicit undertones in her speech. Every living creature in this household reeked of it. He remembered as a young boy how excited he was to hear such tones coming from the countless members living in the house. Now, it was almost pitiful. Almost disgusting.

"Is Blaise in?" he asked simply.

She nodded. "Yes milord. But I'm afraid my master is rather…indisposed at the moment. Perhaps later…?"

"That's all right. It's rather urgent," he said leaning in, using one arm against the door to prop himself. He towered over her by at least a head.

The maid blushed and stuttered. She must have been newly acquired. "I'm not sure if the master would approve….,"

"Don't worry," he said winningly, oozing of charm. She looked up at him and smiled hesitantly. "I drop by all the time." He flashed her a smile, showing all of his pearly teeth.

"Well…if you insist…" she said softly, bowing and backing away so that he could enter. Without a backwards glance, he ascended casually up the stairs, knowing his way around like the back of his hand. After all, in the past this house was practically his own.

After walking through the long hallway on the second floor, he reached the last room to the right. The moans and grunts and thuds he heard faintly from down the hall were quite loud now that he was in front of the door. Draco had a suspicion the walls were thin on purpose – voyeurs and degenerates, the lot of them. He knocked sharply twice and then opened the door without waiting for a response.

Draco had to school his face so as to not give away anything. Ye gods, it was **just** as he had imagined.

Blaise, surprised at the intrusion, sat up abruptly, his muscles tensed. When he realized who it was, he relaxed with sigh, flopping back down onto the bed.

"Oh, it's only you," he murmured, turning back to the longhaired brunette who had been sucking on his thick member. He caressed her hair, letting her know he wanted her to continue. "Shut the door, would you?"

Draco obediently obliged. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, taking in the sight before him. Blaise was currently entertaining two brunette sisters, twins by the look of it, on top of his massive, feather-down bed. Completely in the nude, the three seemed to have been at it for quite some time.

Blaise groaned, unabashed that they had a visitor. In fact, he seemed to relish it. He turned his head to look at his best mate, a light sheen of sweat gracing his brow. "I was wondering…when you would show up," he said a bit breathlessly.

His eyes swept across the room, observing that while one of the girls was kneeling between Blaise's parted legs and licking with abandon, the other girl appeared to be just watching the two, her legs spread apart, her fingers pleasuring herself. The partner-less one, the girl with shorter brown hair, moaned when she saw that a new person had arrived. She shifted so that she faced Draco completely, fondling her breasts a little more for show. The other girl with hair down to her waist, at the moment deep throating and humming around Blaise's shaft, every once in awhile locked her gaze onto Draco, her eyes burning with lust.

"Not today Blaise," Draco said easily, looking not at all affected by the scene before him.

"Then what?" Blaise grunted, picking up the girl and impaling her on his shaft. She moaned loudly while her sister cooed and scooted up, her fingers furiously circling her clit. The long-haired sister began bouncing up and down slowly, her ample breasts bouncing. In addition to his penis slathered and slippery with her saliva, she was also already slick with arousal; every time she descended, a very wicked squelching noise was to be heard. Draco didn't even flinch. Blaise had to admire his steel resolve; a lesser man would have been fully aroused and panting by now, if not already in the bed. Draco looked like he was just taking a walk in the park.

"I'm here to discuss Hermione Granger, actually," he replied, keeping his face neutral.

At the sound of her name, Blaise's face darkened with depraved delight. He grabbed the girl on top of him and quickly, forcefully, flipped her over. She squealed with delight, elated that he was finally going to take the lead. He turned her over so that she was on her stomach and gathered her around her waist, making her delicious rear stick up in the air. Without warning, he plunged his hot, thick member back into her folds and gripped her waist hard, pulling her in with every thrust so that he could get even deeper inside her. Her equally aroused sister, who was now thrusting three fingers into her opening and slapping her breasts in hopes of finding release, joined in the girl's cries of pleasure.

Draco noticed that up until he mentioned her name, Blaise seemed content at a leisurely dalliance with the girls doing all the work, but now he seemed very worked up, like he needed a release badly. "What….about her?" he panted out harshly, grinning like mad as he pumped into the unresisting girl.

He shrugged. "I have to admit, I didn't think you'd hold out this long."

Blaise barked out a laugh, plunging into the girl faster, their sweaty skin slapping together. "If I want it bad enough…._hah_….**_hah_**…..I can wait for _quite_..a …long….time," he said, short of breath. Draco watched his childhood friend thrust in and out of the girl who was now babbling with mad delight. It was somewhat hypnotic, Blaise's rhythm.

The shorthaired girl appeared unsuccessful at reaching her climax, her breaths short and disjointed. With a cry of frustration, she crawled up to where her sister's head was and spread her legs wide. She grabbed her head, which was pressed closely to the mattress, and slipped her sopping opening underneath. Her sister moaned at both the treat in front of her and at Blaise's member drumming into in, her breasts swaying from the force.

She immediately buried her face into her sister's crotch, slurping and licking and sucking everything her hot mouth could find. Her sister threw her head back and moaned loudly, pressing her sister's head firmly between her legs, knotting her fingers into her long hair.

"Yeesss…!" she moaned, thrusting her hips up and down when her sister began voraciously sucking her clit. Her movements were so vulgar, she knew, without an ounce of dignity or grace. Just the way she knew he liked it.

"Oooh, that's it luv," Blaise whispered, encouraging the erotic site in front of him. He slammed into her harder, relishing that her moans were muffled by her sister's mound. He slapped her supple buttocks a few times and then gripped her waist tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. He turned to Draco for a moment, his amber eyes blazing with suggestion. Draco could still join them, if he'd like. Blaise was never the possessive type; he was always open for sharing.

Draco held his gaze but was unmovable, like stone. "I'm dying for a fag, you have any around?" he asked instead.

Blaise jerked his head to the dresser next to him before returning his concentration to the task at hand. Draco walked over, his heavy shoes gently thudding across the wooden floor, barely noticeable amongst the cries of wanton passion on the bed. He leaned against the wall and crossed his legs as he opened up the tasteful silver etched cigarette holder and picked up a silver lighter.

The taste of tobacco filled his lungs – a taste he hadn't had for a long time. He exhaled, expelling out the noxious fumes. He held that cigarette like an old pro.

"Thought….you quit…," Blaise roughly observed, his body now positively slick with sweat.

"Merely temporarily stopped," he drawled, tapping it expertly to shake off the ashes.

"You can have the whole thing if you like," Blaise breathed.

"Aaah! I'm so…I'm so close!" the shorthaired brunette cried, thrashing about. "Please!!"

Her sister obeyed and noisily slobbered all over her clit, thrusting two fingers into her passage to the same rhythm Blaise had taken up. A few moments later, the girl screamed with ecstasy, riding her long awaited orgasm. Her juices slowly trickled out of her opening, dribbling onto the pristine sheets. The other moaned, sloppily sucking on the two fingers she recently had in her sister, not caring that her chin was slathered with her juices.

"Please master, make me cum too!" she pleaded, her voice deep and throaty with need. Draco had nearly forgotten that in this household, the men were always called master. Back then it had been such a rush to hear.

Blaise, usually a tease when it came to this sort of thing, surprisingly obliged, most likely because he wanted to get off as much as she did. His thrusts became harder and sloppier. He pushed her shoulders down, bringing her rear up higher, nearly banging into her vertically.

"Yes….YES!! Oh gods, YES!" the girl cried, finally making it over the edge, tears streaming down her face from her release.

Draco watched them silently, doing nothing but inhaling and exhaling the smoke. Their every move was reflected against his dispassionate gray eyes.

Blaise threw his head back and thrust into her a few more times. "_Merda_," he hissed, releasing his milky seed into her channel. He quickly slipped out her and stroked his still engorged member, squirting out streams of semen onto her smooth back and hair.

Still in a euphoric state, the girl did not seem to mind at all. She merely sighed contentedly, wiping some of his semen with her fingers. She brought it up to her mouth and licked it a little, giggling. Her sister took her hand and lapped up the remaining wetness, her eyes sated. She reached over and wiped some more of his seed onto her own hand; without taking her eyes off him, she slowly, deliberately rubbed the sticky fluid all around her breasts and nipples. He chuckled. The two girls sighed, flopping onto the mattress and rolled over slightly. Finally drained, their eyelids began to flutter. They had been at it for over an hour, so maybe a small nap was in order.

Draco's eyes followed Blaise as he walked past, unashamed of his nakedness, into the bathroom to clean up a little. By the time he heard Blaise turn off the faucet, he had already finished his cigarette.

"You said you were here about Hermione?" Blaise asked, his voice still rough from sex. He joined Draco and lit a cigarette of his own.

"I was hoping you could indulge me a little," Draco said.

"Oh? How so?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I need a little time, Blaise. Promise me you'll stay away until I've finished with her," he said quietly.

Blaise scoffed. "Aren't you done with her already? You have nothing left to teach her."

Draco stared into his eyes. "**Just give me more time**."

He sighed, stubbing out the cigarette. "Fine," he said with a shrug. "I could never say no to you. She doesn't remember a thing anyway. Just don't take too long, or else I might just find that I _like_ her clueless."

Draco nodded. He clasped Blaise's shoulder gratefully and leaned in to swiftly kiss him once on the cheek. "It won't take long," he said with conviction.

Here Blaise smirked. "You know, in Italy, we kiss both cheeks."

"Yeah? Well in England, more than one kiss borders on faggot," Draco said. The two chuckled. An inside joke.

"Suit yourself," Blaise said airily, padding softly toward the bed where the two sisters slumbered lightly. "I suppose I'll just have to amuse myself with these two for now. Aren't they grand? I found them at a dinner party the other night. They reminded me of her, you know."

"What? They look nothing like her," Draco retorted.

"Well, the hair anyway," he said, running his hand through one of the girl's glossy brown hair. Draco's eyes narrowed. Blaise slowly caressed the girl's face; she stirred slightly, but not enough to awaken. His hand moved down to her small neck…..

"You know, even though I'm your mate, I'm the Minister's man now," Draco interrupted lazily, his voice stilling Blaise's hand. "I'd prefer it if I didn't have to haul your arse over to Azkaban, but I'm afraid I'd also rather not be an accessory to a crime."

Blaise looked over at him, his face amused. "What a good friend you are," he murmured. "Nice to know the Ministry hasn't **_completely_** taken you over."

Draco, with the cigarette case in his hand, tapped it to his forehead as a sort of parting salute. "Wait until I'm out of sight, would you?"

Blaise merely waved him off, his attention already back on the two girls. Draco smiled and exited, closely the door softly behind him. Once his back was to the door, all traces of friendliness melted off his face, evaporated off his body, revealing a cold, stoic expression. He marched down the hall, his gait neither leisurely nor hurried. Before he could reach the opening to the stairs, he could hear the creaking of the bed, no doubt Blaise leaning over.

A gurgle.

Then a muffled scream.

As he walked down the stairs, he never slowed his pace, he never quickened it. His lips were set in a grim line. His eyes were cloudy. He wondered what number these girls were. Draco had thought Blaise was laying low these days, but it seemed he still had that itch he just couldn't scratch. It was aristocrats like him that gave the rest of them a bad name. He didn't think that Blaise would go off to this deep of an end but…. Well, it was to expected, he supposed, seeing as how his mother was…

The place positively reeked of sex. He wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a square inch of the place that hadn't been defiled. Though he was sure the place was meticulously cleaned everyday, he could swear every surface was sweaty, sticky, and wet with bodily fluids.

When he exited the mansion, he didn't realize the day had gotten so windy. His light cotton, dark navy blue coat whipped around him, offering him little protection from the wind. The weather didn't bother him though. He liked tumultuous days like these – it made him feel alive. Walking down the path, he headed for the empty, grassy field in front the mansion. The thing about rich folks was that they built grandiose buildings and gardens to display their wealth, but they also made damn sure they were isolated so that no one could get near them.

Once he put enough distance between him and the mansion, he stopped. He opened the silver case and took out another cigarette, putting it in his mouth. Try as he might though, he couldn't get it lit; even when ducking his head and cradling the flame with his hand, it just wouldn't burn.

"Think you could help a bloke out?" he asked to the apparently open air in front of him, his diction a bit off due to the fag in his mouth.

When he finally looked up, there were suddenly five aurors, strictly lined up in a V-formation. Their stance was tense, their faces were stern. They were all in their official combat uniforms: black, high-necked collar shirts, black slacks, black combat boots, black glasses, black belt, black gloves and a thick, black, long coat.

The leader in the front, the center point of the group, walked up. He flicked his finger at the cigarette, lighting it up instantly.

"Here you are, sir."

"Cheers," Draco said with a slight smirk. He blew a mouthful of smoke toward them, only to have it carried behind him by a strong gust of wind.

* * *

"_You're **destroying **me Hermione….."_

_"Hermione…." _

"Hermione.." 

"Hermione? Hello? Hermione??"

"Oh sorry! What was that Harry?" she jolted up, breaking up her thoughts quickly.

"I've only been calling you for about a minute," he said, looking at her suspiciously.

"Er….were you now?" she asked meekly. "What about?"

"I was asking if you were all right but from the looks of things, I think I know my answer," he said, eyeing her sternly.

"Lay off the old girl Harry," Ron said jovially, slapping her on the back. "Our 'Mione's just a little under the weather, aren't you? Don't feel so bad, when you become thirty, it'll be nothing! Remember, we live longer than the Muggles, so in a sense you – "

"I'm not….**_depressed_** over my age, Ron," she said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. "I was simply lost in thought. You know, massive information swarming all around in there – had to organize myself."

"You don't look like you're organizing," Harry pressed on. "You look tired, that's what you look like."

"Of course I'm tired!" she said hastily. "Did you see what I have to put up with?" She gestured to the lab doors behind them. "You want to go back in there? Because I certainly **don't**."

She just didn't have the energy to control them today. Hermione was simply too exhausted. She tried to put them in their place this morning, but her minions could _smell_ weakness. The nanosecond they realized she was tired and relent-able, they quickly rallied together and were now enjoying a project filled day. She shuddered.

She didn't even want to know what that creature was made out of. Did her people even have **_access_** to trilobites?

Hermione had to hold in a sigh. She must have been too sloppy at keeping her act together. Now both Ron and Harry were breathing down her neck, wondering what was the matter with her. What did she have to tell them? Disjointed, semi-mad, unfathomable experiences? Their immediate reaction would be to beat now, question later, but this time that sort of reaction did not sit well with her.

No, there was something amiss. Something that…..didn't need to be _solved_, because she already knew what it _was_. Now if only she could **remember** what it was. She knew the answers were within her, she just needed to dig deep, clear her mind and all that.

But did she want to? 

That was the main question. There was something wrong with this whole situation, something terribly wrong. It couldn't have been coincidence that both Blaise and Malfoy had some dark secrets that supposedly involved her. They couldn't have gone mad at the same time, so that must mean she did play a part in….well, something.

But where was she to start? Obviously she didn't remember anything. She had analyzed the situation to death without coming across any new information. To think about it anymore would be a waste of time and energy. So for the past day or two she took a dreamless sleeping draught, afraid of what her dreams might bring her.

And now she was such a mess that even Harry was taking an interest.

"Shouldn't you be with your son, Harry Potter?" she asked primly, poking him on the shoulder.

"He's tired of me," he replied simply, waving her off. "We spent all of last night playing Hide-And-Go-Seek. Wasn't until the middle of the game did I realize the little bastard took my Cloak."

"Harry! Language!"

Harry and Ron grinned. It was funny, Hermione telling **them** to watch their mouths.

"Don't be silly 'Mione, the kid's not listening in," Ron teased, rubbing her hair.

"Don't touch me," she said, swatting his hand away smartly. The two men laughed.

"Hey, save the nastiness for Malfoy, would you," Ron said, blowing on his hand to relieve the sting.

Hermione and Harry both stiffened at the name.

"Where is he anyhow? Never thought he was the type to blow off a Friday," Ron continued musing.

God, Malfoy. What was she going to do? What was **he** going to do? She had no choice. She had to confront him. Both of them. But…..Malfoy first. She didn't know why, but she felt more comfortable talking to Malfoy than Blaise. It just felt….safer, somehow. Which was strange. Blaise had never even lifted a finger against her while Malfoy….. well, anyway, she just felt like she was on better footing with her old nemesis.

So she would confront him. Once she worked up the nerves. Once Malfoy returned to work. Yes. She would. With blinding speed.

Oh gods….he said her **_name_**….!

"Probably off doing whatever a Malfoy does" Harry said darkly. Ron rolled his eyes. And Ron thought **he** held a grudge.

"Get over it mate," he said with a sigh. "You and Hermione both – give the bloke a break. Sure he's a right wanker that'd leave you in a ditch if it suited…..his…needs……wait..," he trailed off confused at his line of thinking.

"Yes? Go on Ron," Hermione supplied. "What part of that sentence was supposed to convince us of his good qualities?"

"Er….I had it there….for a second…..," he mumbled. Damn, now that he said it in words…. "Well in any case," he rallied forth, "I'm almost certainly, 90 percent positive, that he wouldn't just randomly stab you from behind." He nodded, satisfied with his accurate portrayal.

"Comforting," Harry muttered.

While Harry and Ron bickered a bit more about Draco's moral character (later Ron would acquiesce that perhaps 90 percent was a bit too much and the two agreed on a number closer to 70), Hermione had to mentally shake herself.

"_Be strong, you stupid twit_," she told herself. "_Now you got Harry mixed into the bunch, if getting Ron all worried about you wasn't enough. You just….you just set your problems aside and WORK, woman_!"

She took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders. There. She felt a lot better. More…Hermione-like. She rolled up her sleeves.

"Okay boys, I'm going back in," she said with a determined glint in her eyes. She marched with authority toward her labs, with her boys trailing closely behind. Seeing her whip people into shape was always an amusing pastime. She opened the doors with a forceful bang.

She whipped her head around, focusing on the closest minion. Johnson.

"Johnson, put those beakers down, get out your notebook and get your data portion finished. **_Now_**, please," she said firmly.

She never really liked to bully her people, but sometimes, in the recesses of a genius's mind, it would only respond to a stronger authority. It had to be done. Lives were at stake, after all.

Though his lips quivered, he raised his chin slightly. "No, Dr. Granger," he said without his voice cracking too much. "I want to work on my very important project."

The room turned deathly quiet.

"What did you just say?" Hermione said softly, her voice deceptively calm.

"I….I said….**_No_**, Dr. Granger," he said nervously, gripping his beakers tighter.

"I see," she said simply, her face the very picture of neutral. She casually picked up his long abandoned notebook and flipped through it, almost as if she had forgotten his presence. After a few pages, she sighed, rolled up the notebook and turned, as if walking away.

The calm before the storm.

Johnson breathed a sigh of relief. He knew those self-help tapes on self-esteem were worth it.

WHACK

"OW! What the -! Did you just HIT me?!!"

WHACK "SHUT UP!"

"OW OW OW OOOW!!"

Harry and Ron blinked, stiffening their backs in surprise. She moved…….surprisingly _quickly_.

"HOW many times do I have to tell you?! WE. DO. NOT. TRY. TO. MAKE. GOLD!" WHACK "Who do you think you are?" WHACK "Eh?! Nicolas Flamel?!"

"OOOooW Dr. Granger!!" he wailed, cowering. How did such a small woman have so much strength? When did she suddenly become so……..giant?!

"You're in MODERN TIMES NOW, for Merlin's sake! People have been trying to do this for CENTURIES and they've failed! Why is that?"

"I-I don't know!"

WHACK "What?!"

"I-I mean…..because….they're not as smart…as…me?" This was not said cheekily. Geniuses did not have a sense of cheek. This was pure, objective opinion.

"No, idiot! It's because it's a fool's errand! Hundreds of people, ten times smarter than you have tried and failed. Don't think you're the one who's going to succeed, because you're not!"

"But….But…!"

"NO BUTS! FIRST! It's supposed to be metal to metal! You can't try to turn WATER into GOLD! FOOL!"

WHACK

"SECOND! Your base is all wrong and if you try and pour one more drop of THAT you're going to have to regrow your eyebrows. Again!"

WHACK

"OOOOOOW! STOPPIT!"

"FINALLY! That is NOT WHACK a Philosopher's Stone WHACK that is a **_candied nut_** from last month's party you found off the ground!"

WHACK WHACK **WHACK**

"NOW GET BACK TO WORK! THE LOT OF YOU!" she roared, addressing the whole lab, her makeshift club sweeping across the room.

Everyone quickly unfroze and swept their experiments into their lockers underneath their work-table. Soon the lab was buzzing, with the alchemists working on the appropriate project. For once.

Hermione, with her hands at her hips, surveyed her domain with satisfaction. There was a light tap on her shoulder. "Yes?"

"A…are you sure this is all right?" Ron whispered.

She shrugged, smiling pleasantly. "Oh yes, it's fine, happens all the time. I'll just give them some boxes of Harriet's Fruity Gummies later and they'll all be happy as clams."

Harry ran his hand through his messy black hair.

"Merlin help us all," he whispered, his eyes bulging with awe.

* * *

The aurors were watching Draco with a bit of apprehension, though they did not move or say anything. Draco merely stood there, enjoying his cigarette.

Finally, someone from the back – young, arrogant, and headstrong – blurted out, "Why the hell do we have to wait here when he's obviously dangling right in front of us, guilty as sin!"

Though he technically shouldn't have been able to hear it all the way out there, Draco could have sworn he heard one of the girl's high-pitched screams from the mansion behind him. He winced slightly, with one of his eyes twitching, but otherwise showed no outward sign of emotion.

Without acknowledging the young auror, Draco turned to the leader, a war-worn man around his mid-thirties, with a sharp smile. "I thought you briefed them, Josiah."

"Apologies sir," the commander stated. "This tac team was chosen to help break in some of the rookies." A meaningful glare was shot toward the outspoken newbie's direction. "All right you lot, since you don't apparently remember words that were spoken to you no less that thirty minutes ago, let's go over this **again**. We are not to make our move until headquarters has cleared us. And WHY is that so?"

A couple of hands were raised. Draco couldn't help but notice the bizarre juxtaposition of the classroom-like scene before him with the horrifying crime happening in real time behind him.

Commander Derrick Josiah picked the young man with the long, brown hair in the back. "Mannings."

"Sir, it was at the suggestion of sir Draco Malfoy sir, the one who came to us with information involving the serial killer in the first place, that we wait until his deposits for the funding of the Ministry be approved before we close in on the perp, sir!" he said clearly.

Cold-hearted and not necessarily brimming full of righteous justice, it was, however, chock full of self-interest. Sure, they could have arrested him right then and there, but due to small technicalities in the Wizarding Law, if Blaise was arrested before the money made its way into the Ministry's bank account, there was a chance that the money could be revoked. Better to wait, Draco had said, until they knew for certain the money was theirs.

There was a beep and the commander's hand went to his ear. After a pause he raised his hand in the air and motioned forward. "Let's go people. B formation, alpha pair goes in from behind, just like in our drills."

With a unanimous "Yes SAH!" the team disappeared with a crack.

Once they Apparated inside the estate, Draco saw that there was a petite auror with short, black hair left behind. She must have been crouched behind the team of aurors, hidden from view. She was doing something peculiar – she was pointing her wand at two piles of yellow leaves, shaking and sweating from the effort. Draco could feel the wand, humming with energy.

She turned to him and greeted him with a nod before turning her attention back to the leaves. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm not being more friendly-like."

He cocked his head intrigued. "What exactly are you doing?"

The young woman turned her head back to him, raising an eyebrow. "You don't really think the two women inside are real, do you sir?"

Draco blinked.

She gave a strained, reassuring smile.

He turned when he heard a shout, a mangled roar that could have only come out of one man. Blaise Zabini. He could hear him struggling, yelling, and cursing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Mission: Success.

The woman sighed in relief and swished her wand across, scattering the piles of leaves with a gush of produced wind. "The Ministry's methods have changed since your days, sir. We don't allow such extreme sacrifices anymore," she continued, wiping her brow.

Draco caught a leaf floating in front of him with his thumb and index finger. "And the correlation between that and leaves is…?"

"I'm from Kyoto, sir, from an old _onmyouji_ family – er, diviners, if you'd like. We have a technique that creates illusions based off of natural elements. With the help of my wand, I created two _shiki_, that's spirits, sir, out of the leaves. Those piles were my base and I controlled my familiars from here."

"Fascinating," he murmured. Sometimes he forgot there were other sources of magic and sorcery to draw upon, especially in other cultures.

An auror appeared next to him with a flash. "Sir, we've apprehended the criminal. We're in the process of escorting him outside to better transport him – his estate has some pretty powerful wards. What will you do next, sir?"

"Sir?"

"_Shit_," Draco thought vaguely, feeling a terrible, familiar burning starting from his arm and reaching all the way to the tips of his hair and toes. Grimacing, he kneeled down on one knee, trying to cope with the pain. "_Not now…."_

"Sayaka, get the commander down here **_now_**, we have a situation!" the auror, Brent Irving, ordered the woman. She was about to summon him when –

"No," Draco said straightening, "I'm fine." He held out something sparkly in his hand – a diamond stud. "Yours?"

Sayaka quickly touched her ear, indeed finding her earring missing. "Oh my, I must have snagged it when I wiped my face…."

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions, I just assumed….," Brent offered, embarrassed.

"Have your commander teach you a thing or two about assumptions," Draco said, not unkindly. "It could get a man killed."

He should go. Draco looked back at the mansion, the sound of the ruckus getting louder. Looked like they were about to exit. Call it cowardly if you'd like, but no prudent Slytherin would stick around, not after such a blatant betrayal. No, there was no need to burn bridges when it wasn't necessary. Who knew, Blaise may still be of some use further down that road. That is, if he ever got out of Azkaban.

He was out of there.

"I'll leave the rest up to your department then. Keep me up on further developments, understood?" Draco said sternly, reminding the aurors without words that in no way should word leak out that he had helped them out in any way with this raid.

Brent and Sayaka voiced their affirmative and with that, Draco Apparated with a crack.

"Cor, so that was the infamous Draco Malfoy eh?" Sayaka said softly, looking at the spot Draco occupied only a moment ago.

"Star struck, Saya?" Brent said with a wry grin. Sayaka slapped his arm good-naturedly.

"He really was something though, wasn't he?" she said.

"Yeah, had me shivering in me boots," Brent whistled. "Damn that man is unflappable."

Somewhere, possibly in an alley, Draco would have had to disagree. He leaned against the cool brick wall trying his damnedest not to crumple up into a little pile. He gritted his teeth, determined not to make a sound, whatever the cost. His pride would **not** allow it.

"_Not yet_," he thought. "_Just a little……just a little bit longer…_"

* * *

"Did you hear about Blaise Zabini?" Severus Snape asked.

It was Sunday afternoon at the Malfoy Manor, where Severus and Draco were having their usual lunch and tea. Severus made it a habit of visiting his godson at least once a month at his home.

"Of course I heard about him," Draco snorted, setting a fresh pot of English Breakfast down on the table. "It's all over the Prophet. They can't get enough of him."

The news hit the Wizarding World Saturday morning, with the front-page headline screaming the discovery. According to the Daily Prophet, Blaise Zabini was to be charged for the murder of at least sixteen women and eight men, all sexual and cold-blooded in nature. His mother was crying foul, while his attorney was already preparing to have the court dismiss his case on grounds of insanity.

"I never suspected that Zabini was one of **_those_**," Snape muttered darkly. Draco didn't reply, instead pouring the tea into both their cups. He had known of Blaise's deviant nature to an extent back when they were growing up – hell, they were practically partners in crime – but when he discovered what his true pleasure was, it **had** come as a bit of a shock.

Changing topics, Snape asked, "And how are you today, Draco? Is the new formula working better for you?"

He shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." Draco gave him a long look. Then, "Tell me again why I'm taking this disgusting potion?"

Snape bit back a sigh. Every time he came over, Draco had to know what he was forced to drink and why. Sometimes Snape felt it would be easier just to tell him the whole truth and have him remember everything. It was all Potter's doing.

"We've gone over this before, Draco," he said tiredly, going through the same words once again. "You took the Mark without the intention of taking the Mark. You took it without swearing completely and utter loyalty to the Dark Lord deep within your heart. And that would have been fine, except during the time you had the Mark and He was still alive, you allowed the darkness to overtake you, corrupting your soul. It activated something deep in the magic and is now trying to completely take over soul with darkness. Do you understand that?"

Snape knew most times Draco asked this question was only to be difficult and give him a hard time, but what else did a godfather do, if not indulge from time to time?

"So? And this potion is curing me?" Draco asked, knowing full well the answer. He just needed to play his part, one last time.

Another bit back sigh. "No, for now, it is merely holding the magic at bay while a cure is being researched and worked on. We are well on our way to success, Draco, you only need to hold out just a little bit more."

If they were to follow formula, this would be the point where Draco threw a fit, demanding to know why the cure had not been found yet. He was supposed to yell, how much longer was just a little bit more, he had been saying a little bit more for years now.

Instead, Draco asked, "Well, what would happen if the body began to adapt to the main components of the potion? If I was becoming immune?"

Snape's eyebrows shot up. He looked at him sharply and said, "Then that would be extremely dangerous. If your body began creating an immunity to it, at first sign it should be reported."

Silence.

"Is that the case, Draco?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with dread.

A pregnant pause. Then Draco merely laughed. "No, no. I was merely tossing out a hypothetical."

Snape's eyes narrowed with apprehension, but Draco appeared to be in high-spirits. "More tea?" he offered innocently. As he poured, Snape regarded him warily.

"Is your mark reacting?"

"No, Godfather," he reassured him. "Just the slightest of tingles. I'll be fine."

Snape appeared to be content with this answer and their lunch proceeded without another hitch. It wasn't until he left, late in the evening, after Draco cleaned up the table, did he smile. A chuckle. His shoulders shook. Soon he couldn't stop laughing. His deep voice echoed throughout the entire empty manor. Once he calmed down a bit, he rubbed his forearm.

"Tingles," he mocked. "It fucking **_burns_**."

He entered his room where he yet again opened the small drawer, taking out the worn picture of Hermione. He held it up to his face, memorizing it. He leaned one hand on the desk, the other still held high with the picture.

Draco closed his eyes and brought the photograph to his face. He kissed it.

He kissed **_her_**.

With his lips still pressed to the photo, he whispered, "_This is all your fault_."

**_She_** forced his hand. He tried. Oh, he tried to resist. But she just couldn't leave him alone. It was like she wanted this.

Wanted this just as badly as he did.

He spared a glance at the white trash container he kept near his desk. It was filled to the brim with broken glass vials, sticky with red residue. The liquid seeped through a leak on the bottom of the bin, oozing onto the expensive rug.

_**Now…..how shall he punish her?**_

* * *

Though she had been taking the dreamless draught the entire weekend, Hermione still felt haunted. She had slept most of Sunday away, so why was she still so tired? Her mind was plagued with too many questions, even though she had tried to force herself not to think about it. She just couldn't help it. And she kept on thinking about that _kiss_.

_**That kiss.**_

Her face would burn red just at the thought of it. She should have been disgusted. But instead, she was frightened, if anything. Not at Malfoy, exactly. It was more of….what that kiss represented. And she didn't know what that was!! It was killing her. All she knew was that having him kiss her was bad. Very bad. Hermione unconsciously touched her soft lips with her fingertips. It was so raw, savage, and passionate…..

She shook herself.

As she cleared some papers from her desk, her eyes fell on the discarded Daily Prophet in her bin. She shuddered. How could it be possible Blaise was a cold-blooded killer? A depraved, sexual deviant who found the greatest pleasure in killing his victims while in the throes of passion?

Did that mean she was a target? That was very likely. When Hermione read the headlines, she immediately ran to the bathroom, expelling all the contents of her breakfast into the toilet. All that time with him, **_alone_** with him……was he planning on killing her too? How could she have been so stupid and naïve? It was probably foolish of her to let down her guard like that, but in her mind, she found it hard to imagine that someone so twisted as Blaise could act so normal most of the time. Especially whenever he was around her. He was so everyday, so charming, so in control. She expected the insane to be frothing at the mouth all the time, or muttering to themselves, or grinning evilly and just **_look_** like they were plotting nefarious deeds.

Gods, she survived fighting a war only to be potentially killed in bed with a twisted madman. Thankfully she had lost her nerve to go through with her plan of getting rid of her virginity. Although, it was strange he never even tried to pressure into anything, much less sex. Perhaps he had other plans for her? Hermione grimaced. That somehow did not seem like a better option, in her opinion.

She was certain now, even after all of her confusion and denial, that they must have had a history together. What kind of history, she didn't know. She suspected that Blaise wanted something out of her and for some reason, did not want to acquire it unless she remembered what that was, what their relationship was in the past.

Whatever it was, she was glad it had been a deciding factor for her mortality. Maybe she subconsciously knew about this and that was why she always felt wary in his presence. Yes, that made a lot of sense. Otherwise, what else did he do that would warrant such a strong reaction in her? Come to think if it, she remembered that he reminded her of something. More specifically, he smelled of something familiar. Something very familiar and important, but she just couldn't manifest the exact image in her mind. Hermione's brain was whirling madly. The puzzle pieces were fitting together, if only a little bit. The revelation of Blaise's true nature was helping her remember. Something was starting to take shape.

She gasped. She knew what he smelled like.

And she knew that it must have been because of that smell that Hermione was always on the edge, her adrenaline pumping into her system a mile a minute. How could she have forgotten. How could she have forgotten that smell. That smell that had plagued her, that sunk into her memory, into her skin. Scarring her, tattooing her, etching her with that smell. That smell that in wartime, permeated the entire air.

He smelled of sweat and he smelled of sex.

He smelled of blood.

_And he smelled of death._

How could she have forgotten something so important?

Hermione gasped back a sob, cradling her head her in her hands and she propped her elbows on her desk.

_Oh gods_….

* * *

Later, she was glad no one was there to see her crumple so easily at the thought of she _could_ have been killed. How embarrassing.

Now, she had only one task in mind: Solve this convoluted mystery!

For that, she had to rally all of her courage and pride and strength. It wouldn't be easy – hell, he could fly off the handle at any moment – but she would do it. She couldn't suffocate her drive for answers any longer. She would have her wand ready and she made sure there were people around the hallway near his office, in case things got out of hand. Hermione took a deep breath.

"_Let's do this_," she thought grimly to herself.

She stuck her wand in her robe pocket and marched into Draco's office opening the door with a loud bang.

"MALFOY!" she shouted, her face determined, her eyebrows knotted. "You have a lot of expl -!"

"Good of you to come by, Granger," Draco interrupted her loftily without looking up from his work. "Wondering when you'd show up…,," he muttered, sounding slightly peeved.

"I…what?" she stuttered, completely caught off guard. He sighed, finally looking up. He gestured grandly at the tall stack of papers on this desk.

"These aren't going to sign themselves, you know," he said a bit snappishly. "Don't think because I'm watching over your department means that I'm going to be trotting back and forth with these like some sort of secretary."

Hermione still hadn't closed her mouth. She blinked rapidly. Her brain quickly backtracked, trying to get a grasp on this entirely new, very unpredicted situation.

Draco's eyes narrowed a little. When he saw that she wasn't moving, he experimentally threw a pen at her, aiming for her head.

"Pfft!" she cried as the nib, in its revolving journey over to her, grazed her lips and chin. She quickly wiped her face in case the ink marked her. "Hey!"

She glared at him. He shook his head and resumed his work. She took a hesitant step forward then retreated two steps. After a long pause, she cleared her throat.

"Er…..I'll just….sign them now….shall I?" she ventured uncertainly. He merely grunted. Taking that as an affirmative, she gingerly sat down on one of the hard, uncomfortable seats provided in front of his desk and began signing the paperwork.

The clock on his wall ticked for a minute passed.

Five minutes had passed.

Twenty minutes had passed. With nothing exceptional happening.

Draco sighed. "Would you mind not staring at me? It's unnerving," he said with a tinge of annoyance.

"I-I wasn't staring at you!" she sputtered. She was sneaking glances at him – that was completely different. She didn't know what to expect. Maybe if he suddenly jumped up from his chair, yelled out, 'BLEAAUUUGH!" and flipped the desk over, that would have been more in character with how he had been acting lately.

As she finished signing the papers, she couldn't help but feel calmed at the notion that perhaps he was back to normal, business as usual. That would certainly make things a little easier. It felt nice, to settle back into a dynamic she knew. But that wouldn't solve anything. It felt so **nice**, though, to have things as they once were…. Hermione stood up, dreading what she had to ask.

"Malfoy, I need to know – "

A head burst into Draco's fireplace. "Draco, are you almost done with those sheets? Accounting needs to go over the figures by the end of today," Minister Weasley said a bit nervously.

"Almost done, sir. I just need Granger's department and…..blast, where was it," Draco shuffled around a few folders on his desk before finding it, "here, Muggle Relations before I can get it over to Fong."

"Good job," Arthur said happily, glad Draco was on top of things. "Oh yes, I need to speak with you for a moment as well, once you finished up what you're doing. It's about that new project I talked to you about the other day."

"Sir, with all due respect, I can honestly tell you that the Ministry is in no position to spend that kind of money over something so – "

"No no, wait my boy!" Arthur interjected pathetically. Hermione rolled her eyes, despite herself. She couldn't believe the head of Funds could wrap the Minister of Magic around his pinky finger like that. "Just listen to what I have to say, I'm sure you'll understand perfectly why it needs to be so."

To his credit, Draco showed great patience and restraint, as he didn't even sign or frown at the Minister. He merely nodded and told him he would be along in a moment. When the fire died out, he stood. He suddenly looked at Hermione. "Sorry, you were saying?"

Hermione quashed the urge to blush. Why, after only asking a simple question and standing up, did he suddenly look so **_fetching_**? He looked just like he normally did and that never affected her before. She quickly tried to reason that she may have just been so happy that he was acting normally, she felt……affectionate toward him.

Right.

"I just…..I just wanted to clear up…ah….," she floundered, her sentence trickling to a whisper.

He raised an elegant eyebrow. She looked up at him.

She really was a coward after all. If he was acting normal, she didn't want to do anything to aggravate the problem. Not a very efficient way to deal with a problem, but one she really, selfishly wanted to utilize at the present time. He didn't seem like he was concerned over anything other than boring Ministry funds and work. She was barely a blip on his radar.

"Um…nothing. It wasn't important," she said lamely, bowing her head. She turned to leave.

"Wait," he said softly, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. These shivers were different than the ones she had around Blaise. She turned around, her heart quickening. She flinched when she saw him raising his hand and reaching over to her.

He neatly and smartly unbuttoned her top button and fussed around her shirt a bit. Hermione quickly looked down.

"You skipped a button," he said simply. When he was done, he patted and smoothed down her collar. Like she was just a mannequin, a doll. "There, much better."

She brought her hand up to her shirt. "Er…thanks …," she said slowly, looking back up at him.

He smiled easily.

She gulped.

Without another word, with a few folders under his arm, he exited his office to go see the Minister.

Hermione was left there, her hand never letting go of her shirt.

* * *

There was something definitely off with Malfoy today. She could just feel it. She thought at first she was paranoid, thinking that he was strange today because he was acting normally. Then she noticed something else.

He was relaxed.

**_Too_** relaxed.

Well, of course he always **_seemed_** like he was easy-going and smooth, like a strong, calm river. But Hermione knew him – she knew that underneath that layer of carefree attitude, she knew there was a solid, stern column within. Most of his smiles and drawls were all for show. She knew him to be quick and calculating, constantly shifting himself to adapt to the environment.

**Now**, though. All the strings that were holding him up taunt, all the discipline and meticulousness and restraint were gone. It was like……he just didn't **_care_** anymore. Like he was just playing this game called: Pretend that You Work for the Ministry. Oh yes, he was doing all of his tasks correctly and all that, but it was like it just for a lark. An actor in a play.

She didn't know what was more disturbing: a highly agitated, violent Malfoy or a Malfoy that apparently felt like he was free of all responsibility. All this thinking made her tired, to be honest. She trudged to the break room to maybe get something to drink and refresh her system.

And of course, Malfoy just HAD to be there.

"You're going to have to wait a moment, I just put a new pot on," he said, his eyes practically glittering with amusement.

"Did you manage to kick a puppy on the way to work, Malfoy, or did something even more joyous happen to you this morning?" Hermione grunted, leaning against the counter across the room from him.

"No puppies, unfortunately, since I so desperately need to sacrifice one for my brew to destroy the world," he said flippantly, inspecting his nails, "but I did hear the **most** interesting news just now."

Hermione shifted her eyes. She didn't like the sound of that.

"So….," he said with a slowly growing grin.

She cringed.

"For your next birthday present, shall I buy you an official whacking stick, or do you just make do with any sort of object that can create that sort of effect?"

"I'll have you **_know_** that had I tried a gentler method, there would be a smoking pit where my lab used to be, with everybody in the Ministry strewn with tentacles and most likely their precious bits would have been transformed into some sort of holiday ornament!" Hermione gritted out, already on the defensive. Such snarkiness abound! Uncalled for!

"Oh Granger, you know that's the real reason the Minister keeps you around," he said, trying to keep from laughing. "I wish I was there – tell me, did you just…hit him, or did you do a little jump in the air first to gain some more momentum?"

"I - ….no comment!"

The coffee pot gave a smart little 'ding!' letting them know their nourishment was ready. Draco turned around, pouring it into two mugs and generally clanging about. "You take it with no milk, less than a spoonful of sugar, right?"

"What? I mean….um, yes, I suppose," she muttered. Awful gracious of him to do her coffee as well. When he turned around, he held out her mug of coffee. She crossed the room and took it, only the return to her position against the counter. Hermione felt a little distance between them wouldn't hurt.

She smelled the coffee – it smelled _wonderful_. When she looked up, she saw him looking at her. Not staring out of anger or contempt or (she shuddered here) _lust_, but…..just looking.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He merely looked at her. And then starting laughing. A clear, deep, rippling laugh. When he saw the question in her eyes, it looked like he tried to explain himself, but he just couldn't stop laughing. He waved his hand, indicating she just forget about it and relax.

Once he settled down, with only a few chuckles here and there, she asked, "Are you quite done or should I give you another minute?"

"Oh, no, I'm finished," he said with smile. "Please." He lifted his cup and drank a sip.

She shot him a withering look before bringing the cup up to her lips.

It all happened in a blur, but all she remembered was the burn of the hot liquid to her lips. Before she could even open her mouth to sip the coffee, suddenly, Snape came barging in, slamming the door open. He marched directly to Hermione and with a speed she never knew he had, knocked the mug out of her hands, causing to crash onto the floor, spilling its entire contents.

Quick as lightning, he spun around and slammed his fist into Draco's face, knocking him down. He slid down to the floor, his back supported by the cabinet. Hermione was frozen with shock but when she saw Draco fall to the ground, she immediately began rushing toward him.

Snape, with his back still to her, automatically held out his right arm stopping her. He was so tense, every fiber of his being crackled with power and adrenaline. It was as if he was about to do battle. He was breathing harshly, staring intently at Draco.

Mysteriously, Draco seemed unfazed. He was merely looking at Snape with an amused, composed look on his face. It was almost angelic in its lack of malice.

It wasn't until later did Hermione realize that it was a face of a man barely hanging onto reality by a thread.

* * *

SWEET LORD THAT WAS LONG! I cannot believe I just wrote all of that. Freaking 25 pages in Word.

Wellll…..what do you all think? I SWEAR, this is the last chapter that does things without any explanations behind it. Next chapter, things will slowly begin to unravel. I promise! I'm sorry if seems like I'm straying from the plot with all this other stuff, but trust me, it's either VERY important or I just like building around my little version of the Harry Potter universe.

Apologies again, for the horrid grammar and what-not, this chapter is not officially beta-ed. I'm in the process of getting my entire story cleaned up (thanks to PinkMartini and Katdiva!) but I won't repost with the corrected chapters until the entire story is complete. For all of you that vomit at the sight of technical errors, I am truly sorry. But I feel that since this is a fan-site and not an official book in which you pay to see it, I ask that you be a little more tolerant. For me. For the New Year. PLEASE.

As always, I appreciate ANYONE that drops a message, even if it IS to say, "You have lots of mistakes." STILL APPRECIATE IT. Truly. I hope you like where I'm going with this story. For more on what I have to say about this chapter, go to my livejournal )

OH! I found this out today on someone's profile on (she did a GREAT fic of Draco/Hermione during the War – it's called Sacrifice, by Kyra4, it's bloody great, inspired me and I think you'll see that inspiration later on in the story), and she mentioned this grammar error that bugs the hell out of her.

Did you know there's a difference between blond and blonde? BECAUSE I DIDN'T! Apparently, blond is usually used to describe males while blonde is for females! What did you know, I learned something today. And you better believe I went back and corrected all of my mistakes!!

Anyhoo, that's enough for now. Shower me with….well, whatever you got because I'm good and desperate like that. Have a wonderful new year and I hope you get everything you wish for! Thank yoU!

Love,

Snowflakeimp


	15. Cruel Memories

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I hate you. I think the very fact that I'm writing this on a shitty-ass PC and that I'm on assisted-living rent proves that I don't own Harry Potter, so why I have to physically SAY that I don't own any part of the franchise eludes me.

* * *

Earlier that day…

Severus Snape couldn't ignore that little tickling in the back of his mind anymore. Something was off with his godson when he saw him yesterday. Usually he was moody and tried his hardest to get out of drinking a potion he didn't really understand. However, that time Draco was calm and almost amused. As if it all didn't matter.

"Draco? Have you left for work already?" Severus called out, looking around. If he was still home, Severus had an excuse all ready, having conveniently left a few books behind. From the looks of things however, it seemed he didn't have to bother.

He knocked on his bedroom door. No answer.

Severus opened the door slowly, only to be greeted by a cold, empty room. He shook his head. Even he, as dour and unattached to material things as he was, decorated his room slightly with objects that pleased him. But this room…it was like no one lived in it. Everything was bare, with only the very essential pieces of furniture and enmities present. He had a suspicion that the only reason why the rest of the manor was still so well furnished was because Draco couldn't be bothered to take the effort to get rid of everything. He walked around, not quite sure what he was looking for. An affirmation, perhaps, that something was amiss.

And then he found it. Or to be more accurate, his foot found it. When he walked around the large, antique desk, the part of the carpet he stepped on procured a very distinct squelching noise. He looked down. His heart froze.

Weeks, even months worth of potion was slowly seeping out of the trash bin. Glass vials, carelessly, violently tossed and broken. This could only mean one thing.

Severus quickly ran, already knowing his next destination. The Ministry. The only logical place he would be. Because **_she_** was there.

As he ran, he wondered how long ago did Draco begin to remember. And then he prayed to whatever deity that hadn't turned its back on him yet to give him a little more time. Just enough to save them both.

* * *

"I really don't see any bit of Lav in him, Harry," Ginny said with a soft smile gracing her lips. Currently on a little holiday herself, she chose to spend some time at the Potters and reacquaint herself with the little black-haired baby.

And his son.

"It's all in his personality, I swear," Harry said with a chuckle, swatting his son's bottom affectionately as he toddled across the floor. "Vainest little creature I've ever seen."

"What are you talking about? He seems perfectly fine to me," Ginny commented, tickling the squealing boy. "Whoosagoodboyden? Huh? Is it you? Is it _you_!?"

"I'm serious Gin, he spends more time in front of a mirror than anywhere else!" Harry exclaimed, exasperated.

"He's just a bit lonely, I bet. Only natural for babies to be interested in their own reflection," she said, wiping some drool that had escaped James Sirius Potter's mouth.

"I guess," he said with a grin. "Sometimes I can't sleep at night, thinking that he might become a nancy boy of the worst kind."

Ginny laughed. "You know you'd still love him."

"True, but I'd love him even more if…"

Harry was interrupted when a regal falcon-eagle tapped impatiently on his window. He scowled. He knew whose bird that was. He had half a mind to just ignore it but when Ginny opened the window on her own, he sighed.

He dutifully opened up his palm while rolling his eyes, waiting for the torture to begin. The falcon-eagle dropped the fancy, gold-leafed letter into his hand and quickly made its way back to the blue skies. Damn bird. Acting like it couldn't stand being in such a non-aristocratic atmosphere any longer.

A snort escaped him when he saw the letter; it was addressed to _POTTER!_ in a ridiculously fanciful script. Leave it up to that poof to write like that, even in this day and age.

"Excuse me Ginny, I have to read this," he mumbled, walking into his study. He was pretty sure she didn't even hear him.

With another sigh, he ripped open the letter. Reading the first few lines, he muttered a few expletives. Someone should really tell Malfoy that starting out a letter with insults was not a good start. He really was childish.

_Potter,_

_Well, this letter better find its way to you soon, you miserable piece of wank. Hope you're happy – your little plan has all gone to cock, no thanks to you. I swear if we all survive this, I will find centaurs that would gladly rape you then stomp on your quivering remains._

_You bloody, bloody, bloody bastard, wiping out my memory! Don't think you can fucking get away with this! You had ONE task. ONE, Potter, and you failed miserably. How typical. You great flaming shit. You couldn't even protect her properly._

_Hopefully after reading this, that will be quickly remedied. I don't have much time left now, so my overdue diatribe will have to wait for some other time. You probably don't know what I'm talking about. Thankfully I remembered all on my own and I shall now do you the honors._

Harry's teeth gritted as he was reading the long-winded contents, frustration swelling up in him. What the hell was that bastard talking about? Once he found him, he would give him such a fist to the face.

Moving his eyes downward, his eyes then rested upon an unfamiliar symbol on the middle of the page. As soon as his mind registered that image, it slowly began to peel off the paper. It started to twist in the air, moving toward Harry's head. He could only stand in shock as the inky black lines glowed an eerie light and wrapped around his head like halo. Suddenly, the apparition enclosed around him, sinking into his skin. Harry's entire body stiffened and jerked upward, like an invisible string tugging him toward the sky. For the briefest of seconds, his entire body was engulfed with the black light and then…all was normal. Except for one thing. He remembered everything.

**It** was lifted.

Harry quickly shook himself, re-reading the letter. He realized there was more written on the bottom, below the now vanished symbol.

_Go quickly and find her. I can't guarantee anything anymore. Out of everybody, I trust you to –_

**You know what. Forget it. Leave everything to me, Potter. I've got it all under control now.**

Harry broke out into a cold sweat. The more Malfoy wrote, the more erratic and shaky his usually immaculate handwriting became. But that last line, it was in a completely different script. It was rough and uneven. Like an entirely different person wrote it.

"Oh god, Hermione!" he hissed, crumpling the fragile paper in his cold hand. He grabbed his wand from the mantle and ran out into the living room.

"Harry, look what your son just did – " Ginny announced when she heard his footsteps, unaware of the state her friend was in.

"I have to go Gin-something important-take care of James!" Harry shouted in a blur, rushing out of his house.

Ginny blinked. She shrugged and resumed playing with his son. With a swish of her wand, she made sure to close the front door.

"Now Jamey-boo, where's your nose?"

* * *

Harry was out of breath after he scoured half of the Ministry. Damn, she wasn't in her office or in the labs, and Ron hadn't seen her all morning. Where the hell could she be? He had even barged into Malfoy's office on Level 5 with no luck. He growled, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic was setting in. As he ran down the corridor paying no attention to the stares he was getting, his mind raced with possibilities. What if Malfoy already got to her? What if they're not even here? What if –

"Oomf!" he sputtered as he knocked into someone taunt and bony. When Harry looked up from the ground, his eyes were greeted with the sight of a scowling Severus Snape.

"Do try to refrain from running about like a hyperactive first-year, Potter," he sneered, but Harry noticed a hint of urgency and impatience in his voice, the usual languid rhythm lost.

Not even reacting to the barb, Harry quickly picked himself up and asked, "Severus! Have you seen Hermione or Malfoy around?"

Severus was slightly taken aback. The way he asked that, the fact that he looked so scared – did he remember as well? Was he here too, to look for them? He attempted to feign disinterest. "Why would you want to know that?"

Harry sighed inwardly. So that was the game he was going to play? "Forget it," he snarled, pushing past his former professor. "I'll find them on my own!"

With that, Harry ran off again, preparing to search the Ministry top to bottom. He couldn't risk a formal announcement asking where they were because that would tip Malfoy off that someone was searching for them. He also couldn't enlist others to help because he just didn't have the time to explain to them why those two needed to be located immediately.

Suddenly a very swift figure appeared on his left. "I'll search the top, you the bottom," Severus supplied before running past him. Harry grunted. At least the greasy git dropped all pretenses and understood that finding them was their first priority. Harry made a sharp right at the end of the building while Severus ran the other way.

There were a million questions tumbling in Severus' mind, but he focused on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time to figure out how and when Draco receded back into that old persona, as well as what exactly Harry remembered and how.

He managed to race across the Ministry with relative ease. As he neared the end of one of the endless hallways, he heard Draco's distinctive deep voice coming from the break room, laughing.

"Are you quite done or should I give you another minute?" Hermione's clear voice asked with a touch of annoyance.

"Oh no, I'm finished. Please."

He was so close, so close. Just a little bit further and he would be there. Severus prayed he was not too late. Time itself seemed to move slowly, like molasses dripping down a cool surface. The world lost sound. All Severus could see was his arms slamming the door open and the first thing he saw was Draco holding a coffee mug, smirking, with his gaze fully focused on the woman in front of him.

His mind quickly and unconsciously linked their two cups together, somewhere in his consciousness remembering the past. Severus' hand slowly, painstakingly made its way across the room and slapped Hermione's cup away from her lips, hoping that she had not swallowed anything.

Partly out of logic, partly out of anger, he swung around, Draco's gloating face almost illuminating Severus' line of sight, and punched his godson on the cheek. Even though the man slid down without a fight, Severus was on the edge, prepared for anything. Sound slowly began leaking back into his ears and he heard Hermione gasp and walk forward.

He quickly stuck his arm out, effectively blocking her path. He allowed himself to finally catch his breath, panting slightly. Looking at Draco's face, he couldn't help but shudder. So devoid of care, so devoid of malice…it was worse that he thought.

Vaguely the loud thudding of Harry's feet echoed through the hallway, stopping by the opened door. "Hermione!"

He quickly noticed Severus and Malfoy, sitting on the ground, smiling like an amused saint. Irrational anger mounted in his veins and he yelled out, "**_Stupefy_**!" Malfoy immediately slumped over. Severus finally allowed himself to turn around to take a look at the frightened woman.

Hermione looked between the two of them, words lost in her throat. Perhaps it was the loss of sleep the night before, perhaps it was all of her fears and emotions finally catching up to her; whatever the cause, she **_fainted_**. For the first time in her life, she fainted. Thankfully Harry was fast enough to catch her limp body. The two men exchanged looks.

Now what?

* * *

Hermione blinked. Where was she?

Wherever she was, it was cold. She shivered. It was oddly familiar…

"Hermione, how are you luv?" Harry asked in a soft voice. She turned her head and looked at him.

"H-Harry? Where am I? What happened?" she asked. She didn't like the way Harry was talking to her. It was as if he was treating her like some fragile doll. His tone was dulcet and hesitant. Harry had never addressed her like that.

He grimaced, not sure what to say. His earlier resolve to lay everything out on the table for her, no punches held, did not seem that appealing of an idea now. He was scared he was going to lose her. Again.

"You have to understand, this is for your own good," he began, not really meeting her eyes.

"What is? Wait, don't tell me you – why am I the only one that doesn't know anything?!" she demanded, her voice getting louder. She was frustrated to tears. What was going on!

"Hermione, listen to me!" he said roughly, shaking her shoulders slightly. "I…I…you have to see with your own eyes. You have to see – you have to trust me. Okay?"

She couldn't do much but agree, seeing as how she didn't understand a word he just said. But she knew it was something important since he was so worked up. His voice was gravelly with suppressed emotions; if she weren't so occupied with being mystified, she would have been more worried for him. As he led her down the dark and frankly, dank hallway, the cogs in her head were slowly coming around, cranking.

"We're at Spinner's End, aren't we," she said quietly, gripping Harry's cold hand tighter. It was more of a statement than a question.

He snorted without humor. "Yeah, isn't Severus' house brilliant?" he muttered.

He turned a little bust of some relative of Snape's around 180 degrees on a nearby mantle. The bookshelf full of musty, leather-bound books slowly creaked open to reveal a secret stairway leading down into the abyss. Long ago it may have been some sort of torture chamber or dungeon, but Snape had managed to clean that all up and typically used the large underground facility to store supplies.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Severus had kept some of the underground intact, like leaving in the bar doors to some of the cells. When they turned a corner, a new installment surprised her. She was pretty sure vanity was not one of her old professor's vices, so why did he have a large, rectangular mirror installed on the wall?

Harry apparently knew the purpose of the mirror as he walked up to it with confidence and whispered a few words to it. The mirror shimmered and suddenly, they could see inside one of the cells.

"A two-way mirror," she breathed. When her eyes focused, she realized something more shocking.

Severus was inside the dreary cell, his back to the mirror. The cell was sparse, with nothing but a flimsy cot, a tiny sink, and a toilet. For now, glowing balls of light illuminated the entire underground, but Hermione remembered that once the lights went out, it really was a frightening place. In front, facing Severus, was an unconscious Draco Malfoy, tied securely to a metal chair.

She quickly turned to Harry. "Why did you tie Malfoy up? What's Severus doing to him? What's going on?!"

Harry didn't respond. He merely kept his eyes forward, staring at the scene in front of him. His body was rigid. Hermione's stomach twisted in a knot. She had a bad feeling about all of this. The sense of foreboding was suffocating her. She slowly turned and followed Harry's line of sight.

Draco's eyes were beginning to flutter. Hermione gritted her teeth. The bruise on his cheek was a blue-ish shade now, marring his otherwise perfect features. He groaned. Slowly, slowly, his eyes opened.

The only thing Hermione was able to see was Draco's inky, swirling, midnight black eyes.

She found it hard to swallow.

Draco shook his head, wincing as he tried out the muscles on his face. "Where am I?" he muttered, his voice thick and scratchy.

"Draco, I want you to focus on the sound of my voice," Severus said calmly.

"Godfather?" He squinted, trying to get used to the light.

Snape appraised the man in front of him grimly. He wasn't going to fall for that innocent act.

"Do you know why you're here? Restrained to a common chair?" he asked, his voice easily filling the entire cell.

"No! What's going on here?" Draco shouted, struggling against the spelled rope. "Where's Granger?"

"Now why would you bring her up?" Snape asked smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back.

Draco stopped his struggle to glare at his godfather. "Because the last thing I remembered was being in the break room with her, that's why! Now tell me what's going on!"

"Well, she is not here, I'm afraid," he lied easily. "What I want to know is, how long has it been since you stopped taking the potion?"

"You're lying," Draco hissed. "You're LYING!"

"I am NOT lying!" Snape sharply rebuked. "I saw the vials, you've wasted them all!"

"NO!" he roared, twisting against the ropes with renewed vigor. "Granger! I know she's here, you're hiding her somewhere! Where is she?!"

Severus released his breath through gritted teeth. He just wouldn't **_focus_** on anything else.

"For the last time, Draco, she is not here. She's back at the Ministry, so please, calm down," he tried again, holding up his hands in a placating manner.

Draco stared at him for a moment before continuing his struggle. "Granger!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, as if he hoped his voice could reach her somehow. "You have to help me!"

Hermione gasped behind the mirror.

"They've taken you too, haven't they!? You have to get me out of here, they're crazy!" Draco looked around wildly. "Trust me Granger!! They're CRAZY!!"

Hermione shook. She didn't know what to believe anymore. Both sides were hiding something from her, she knew that much. She looked hesitantly to Harry, who reached around and gripped her shoulders with a firm arm.

"It's not true," Harry said fiercely, holding her close to him. "He's trying to manipulate you. Just wait a little longer, then you'll see this snake's true form."

She bit her lip, heart pounding and resumed looking into the glass.

Catching his breath, Draco knew his tactic wouldn't work. Severus noted as much.

"You see Draco? She's not coming," he said grimly. "Are you calm enough to answer a few questions?"

"Like what, **_godfather_**?" he spat out.

"How long have you not taken the potion?" Severus stressed.

Draco started to chuckle at the absurdity of it all, shaking his head. In a flash, all amusement left his face. Something much darker replaced his features, his eyes almost glowing with madness.

"GRANGER!" he screamed, twisting around, struggling once again.

"GET IN HERE GRANGER!!" he ordered wildly. "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! **GRANGER**! GET THE **_FUCK_** IN HERE!"

**His eyes found hers.**

Hermione's entire body froze, like she was made of ice. He looked straight through the wall, straight through the mirror. _As if he could see her._

She began shaking uncontrollably. Something was wrong. Her feet, her heart, her body – all of her started to move toward him, as if obeying his every command.

Why.

_Why_.

His words wrapped around her like a barbed wire, encircling her, grabbing her, biting her, forcing her to go to him. Why was she so compelled to listen to him? Hermione was horrified. Was this really Draco Malfoy? When he raised his voice, why couldn't she support herself? Why was she shaking so much she collapsed to the ground?

Harry gripped her, forcing her to stand back up on weak knees. "You have to fight him, 'Mione! Fight him!!"

She let out a cry of frustration. "I don't….**_understand_**!!"

"It's going to be all right!" he assured her desperately. "He can't see you! You have to trust me!"

She held onto her best friend like he was her savior. Harry didn't care. He didn't care if her nails broke his skin, if she would leave bruises on his body. He wouldn't let **him** take her.

She once again forced herself to look. Once it was apparent she wasn't going to come to him, Draco ceased. His voice was hoarse from screaming.

"Shall we move on to the next question?" Snape tried to make his statement glib, but he couldn't entirely eradicate the slight quiver in his voice. When he received no response, he continued. "How many people have you involved?" It didn't need to be said that he meant, how many people had Draco manipulated that concerned Hermione.

Like a light switch, Draco suddenly went calm and went along with the interrogation. "Not too many, surprisingly," he said easily, his black eyes heavily lidded. It was as if the little fit he just had never happened.

Both Severus and Harry tensed.

"But you couldn't possibly expect me to remember them all, do you?" he drawled, making himself comfortable despite his restraints. How could he be in captivity yet still look like a king sitting on his throne?

"Try, Draco," Severus ground out.

A long, tortured sigh. "Well, there was Alex Grace," he offered nonchalantly.

Hermione pressed closer to Harry. She knew about that – that was when he tried to scare Alex by telling him of her crush – but she had no idea that he directly wanted a rift between them. She thought he was just being an ass, as usual.

"I mean, at first I thought hiring that girl to keep him distracted was enough, but they were getting too close for my tastes in the end," Draco continued, not at all bothered by his actions.

She brought a hand up to her lips. He…hired Amelia to seduce him?

"It must have been fate. I met her after she had a few dates with him – purely coincidental. When she told me she was thinking he wasn't her type at all, I offered to compensate her for her troubles if she would continue holding onto his attentions," he said, his voice almost sing-song in its amusement. "I think it worked out best for everyone in the end. He was a _horrible _bore. Why he was so attractive to Hermione, I'll never know."

Hermione couldn't help but notice the easy way her name fell from his lips. It was so casual, like a caress. She held her breath.

Getting into the swing of things, he continued, "And of course, Blaise. Wasn't I brilliant? Got him arrested and all that loveliness all on my own. Now he can't have her."

Despite knowing that Blaise was a cold-hearted murderer, it was still unnerving to hear that his supposed best mate had no qualms over betraying him.

"And also now he can't kill again?" Snape ventured, hoping there was still some sort of goodness left in him. His hopes were drowned when all Draco did was shrug.

"I suppose so," he said dismissively, as if bored with the subject now that it wasn't on Hermione.

"Draco, are you telling me you have no concern over anybody else at all? You have no consideration for the lives you may have irrevocably damaged?"

Draco barked out a laugh. He looked up at him, locking his eyes onto Severus' and told him with conviction, "I would gladly manipulate and ruin any number of lives if that's what it took! I would steal for her, cheat, lie, kill – whatever it took, **_Severus_**. Don't think I give a damn about anyone else!"

Severus couldn't help but take an unsteady step back. Draco's voice was getting louder as his mind was gradually becoming more unhinged.

"Do you think I actually care about anyone other than ourselves? I don't give a fuck about you, I don't give a fuck about Potter or about anything else in this _worthless,_ godforsaken place!"

His vicious, spiteful, selfish words were like barbs in Severus' heart. Even though he knew Draco was being corrupted, he also knew that underneath, there was still a seed of truth. Deep inside Draco, in the core of human where things were simply black and white, he really did feel that everyone else in the world paled in comparison.

Severus shook his head and waved his arm, dimming the lights in the room. He had enough. He turned around to look at the wall where the two-way mirror was. He couldn't see through the other side, but he gestured for Harry that he was through with the interrogation. Hermione didn't have time to react to Draco's words. Having heard enough, Harry dragged her away from the dark and cold basement.

Before he could turn around to leave as well, he heard his godson laugh. "Poor godfather, are you sad? Does it distress you, knowing that no one else matters? That was always what hurt you the most, wasn't it? To know that you could only amount to second-best, if _that_," his deep voice riddled with mockery.

"What distresses me, Draco, is your inability to empathize with others like a decent man," he responded roughly. He couldn't bear to turn around to look at him.

There was a long pause. Severus was beginning to wonder if he had even heard him. Then, almost to himself, Draco whispered:

"Other than me and Hermione, everything else is **_ugly_**."

* * *

Some answers are in the second chapter, so I'll keep this short and sweet. Thank you for sticking with me and thank you to my lovely betas katdiva and pinkmartini!!!

Oh crazy Draco, mama still lurve you….


	16. The Plunge

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: No. I just……no. I own nothing. Long live ME!

* * *

When Snape finally made his way to the dining room, leaving a muttering Draco behind, Harry and Hermione were already sitting down. There was a heavy silence in the air. They both turned when they heard him walking toward them on the wooden floor. As he sat down, he noticed Hermione was refusing to look at them, preferring to keep her head lowered. Apparently her clenched hands were fascinating.

The only sound in the whole room was the grand ticking of the old clock.

Tic.

Tic.

Tic.

"That couldn't have been Malfoy, it just couldn't have been!" she finally breathed, breaking the silence. That couldn't have been the same man she was arguing and fighting with before. Sure, he was a twisted soul in general but he was **not** that man in that cell.

"What he was talking about – he couldn't have really done those things, right? _Right_?" she looked around desperately for assurance. The two men didn't meet her eye.

"I-I mean, just the other day we were talking and bickering like we always have! He…he said…and then I…we were having tea and _biscuits_!!" she floundered, her voice cracking. She couldn't stop rambling, "And and and he was talking about buying a new suit and I told him he was a fanciful ponce and…oh my god, he had some crumbs _on his chin_…!"

The last few words were almost incomprehensible, her voice squeaking to new heights in her hysteria. Conniving madmen, in her opinion, did not go around drinking tea and getting bits of biscuit stuck to their faces. Madmen cackled wildly over nothing and…and…drank blood…and desired scantily clad virgins and the like.

"That IS the true Draco, Ms. Granger, you have to understand that!" Severus finally exploded, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. "His mind is warped but it's because of the Dark Mark!" He sighed and combed his hand through his silken black hair. He turned to Harry. "It seems as though the darkness hasn't fully taken over him yet – we still have a chance. At this point, at least he will have bouts of clarity."

Harry shot up, obviously not pleased with Severus' soft assessment of Malfoy. He rose with such abrupt force his chair tipped back and toppled onto the floor with a loud clack. "Bollocks, Severus! It's **pure** bollocks! I don't believe in your whole darkness taking over his beautiful, pure soul _bullshit_. Malfoy's a right bastard who's gone complete mental years ago! He's a selfish, spoiled, detached from reality rich-boy who won't stop for anything until he gets what he wants. It doesn't matter who gets in his way or even if he hurts Hermione in the process – and everything would've been fine if we locked him up like I said!"

"Both you just SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed, wanting to tear out her curly hair. The two men immediately shut their mouths. "I don't understand a word you're talking about and if I'm confused about **_one more thing_** out of your mouths God help me, I will pull your eyelids back so far you could use them for knickers!"

Harry opened his mouth, but when she shot him a glare, he closed it again. He and Severus exchanged a glance.

"Sorry, 'Mione, I know this is difficult for you," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Tell you what, it's been a long day. You need some rest. Why don't we call it a night, and I promise we'll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow."

Hermione was about to retort that she wanted answers **now** but was suddenly assaulted by a wave of dizziness. It was true it was a stressful day and past few days weren't exactly a walk on the beach. A comfy bed with cool sheets was sounding more and more appealing to her.

"Fine," she sighed reluctantly. "But I want everything explained to me first thing tomorrow. I'm talking six in the morning, Harry."

"Anything you want," he promised.

* * *

Like hell she was going to wait until tomorrow.

When she was sure they were in their respective rooms fast asleep, she immediately snuck out to see Malfoy. She just couldn't fully believe what she saw through that glass. She had to see for herself, face-to-face, what he was really like. She was scared but she knew she couldn't just sit around, waiting for answers to fall into her lap.

The underground was dimly lit with the glowing lights, giving the cells an eerie blue tint. As Hermione stood in front of his cell, one hand clenched around a cold, iron bar, she wondered idly if she was actually as smart as some hailed her to be. This might have been a mistake.

She was about to turn around and leave – part nerves, part assumption Draco was asleep – when shuffling within his cell alerted her attention.

"Hullo, luv," he drawled from his cot, turning to her. She could barely make him out; his shimmering blond hair was the only indicator of his location.

She swallowed, suddenly having difficulty finding her voice. She miraculously found it after a pause and asked quietly, "Is it true…what they're saying about you?"

"I'm not quite sure what they said exactly, though I can guess Potter's assessment was littered with loving expletives, so I'm afraid I really can't say yea or nay to your question." Much to her exasperation, he spoke with an amused tone.

"**Fine**, then is it true what you were saying to Severus?" she bit out, gripping the bar tightly.

"More or less I suppose," he said airily. His reply would have been more appropriate for answering a more run-of-the-mill question rather than affirming that the only one that mattered to him was Hermione.

"Well…then what about all those women?" she asked tightly, not believing she was asking such a question.

He didn't say anything for a bit.

"Would you believe they were a distraction?" he offered.

"A-A **_distraction_**?!" As a woman, she couldn't help but bristle with sympathy for her sisterhood. "They dedicated their hearts and their lives to you and all you can say is that they were a _distraction_?"

"Please stop before you continue to spout out more of that romantic drivel. Really, it's not like you," he scoffed.

"I hardly think you're the right person to dictate what's like me or not," she hissed with forced bravado.

Draco heaved a sighed. "You know, you may find it hard to believe, but I did try. They told me to keep my distance and I did, for the most part. I tried to obey their rules but I'm a **_man_**, darling. If you weren't going to satisfy me, I needed something to focus my energies on."

It was just too bizarre to think that _he_ wanted _her_ to satisfy him. She really couldn't get past that point. She was at a loss for words.

He clucked his tongue, mistaking her silence for jealousy. Draco walked up to her slowly, grabbing the bars with both hands. He tiled his head sideways, leaning down slightly to meet her horrified gaze.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked with almost child-like guile. His eyes were wide and somewhat mocking, but he was being completely sincere. "If it makes you feel any better, they're all worthless. Not worth a second of my time. Not like _you_."

He reached out with one hand and lightly caressed her springy hair. "I'd give you _anything_, Hermione," he whispered.

At that, Hermione broke out of her trance. She instinctually slapped his hand away. "You'd give me **_nothing_**," she snarled coldly.

To her surprise, he started to laugh. Not at her, but out of…joy? Through his laughter, he managed to exclaim, "You'd never back down from me, would you!"

She was _glorious_.

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. So that was it? Was it because she was able to stand up to him that he desired her? Did it give him a high, knowing that she was on equal footing with him and gave him a hard time? Her eyes unconsciously trailed down, only to notice he was getting aroused – his black pants revealed his growing passion from their conversation.

Dear lord, her resistance turned him on. That was why he had always sought her out, relishing their squabbles.

She felt dizzy. It was too much to process and she needed to get out of there. Without another word, she managed to run off but not before collapsing somewhere down the corridor. She curled up into a ball, covering her ears and rocked herself back and forth.

She started to sob out of frustration. Her semi-perfect little world – it used to be so predictable and lackluster. What had become of it?

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. It was all his fault. He destroyed everything she had tried so hard to create for herself. Too numb to even be appalled, she couldn't do anything even when she heard him unzipping his pants. Her stomached churned as she vaguely heard him pleasuring himself.

"Oh yes…," he hummed in ecstasy.

Where was the normal Draco Malfoy she used to know?

"FUCK YOU!" she continued to scream, her throat raw with emotion. She stifled another sob.

"Yess," he hissed.

"**_I hate you_**," she repeated weakly, her voice desperate.

"More…," he whispered, his voice echoing throughout the underground.

"_More_…"

* * *

By the time Hermione managed to drag herself out of bed and head downstairs, Severus and Harry were already huffing and puffing from arguing. They must have been at it for at least an hour prior.

"Jesus Hermione, did you sleep okay?" Harry asked abruptly, turning around to look at her. She looked a wreck. If one could ignore her out of control hair, the bags underneath her eyes would immediately indicate her lack of sleep.

"Eh…," she mumbled. Rather than elaborate, she chose to sit down. The two men followed in suit and sat down in front of her at the table.

"Now, Miss Granger, your memory was temporary Obliviated for a number of reasons," Snape began without preamble. "I suspect the main reason is because Draco suffers from the curse of the Black Stream. I presume you're familiar with that?"

Automatically her encyclopedic skills kicked in. "When a person is either branded with a magical insignia or dons an enchanted object of darkness, under certain circumstances and um, duress, I suppose, the person could potentially convert into a dark being themselves. The dark mark or object would act as a catalyst to a person's dark intentions, slipping into a person's soul like a…black…..oh…," she trailed off.

"And that is exactly what I believe Draco is afflicted with. When he was fighting the War with us, he suffered countless hardships. His dark mark must have begun seeping into his conscious, distorting his most primitive desires and surfacing them."

Hermione took a minute to soak it all in. It all sounded logical and would explain a lot of about why Draco was acting completely insane.

No.

Wait.

That didn't explain anything at all!

"So what does this all have to do with me? If what you're saying is true, then wouldn't we just have a madman on our hands, you know, running around, zapping elderly people and possibly banning festive holidays? That sort of thing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry coughed to hide a chuckle. Severus shot him a glare.

"Highly unlikely," he drawled. "I believe you and Draco were in a relationship during the War. Before you say anything denying that, may I remind you your memories were altered?"

She sputtered but managed to hold back her cries of disbelief.

"Apparently you became his focus during his struggle," Severus continued. "You have to understand, the things that he did…it wasn't really him. It was many factors. He did horrible things to you, I admit this. But if Draco wasn't suffering from the black stream, I know he would not have done what he did."

Harry had enough of his sugarcoating. "Please, spare me," he sneered. His tone softened as he looked back to Hermione. "He locked you up and abused you, 'Mione. He took advantage of you against your will and even drugged you to keep you by his side. He was obsessed with you! Do you see why we had no choice but to separate you two?"

Dry mouthed, Hermione barely nodded.

"We had…opposing ideas on how to solve this problem, but we ended up with a fairly decent compromise. We would Obliviate the both of you and during the time you two lived normal lives, I would try my best to find a cure. Thus far all I could offer him was a potion that would keep the dark stream at bay. I am very close to finding a cure, Miss Granger. We only need to wait just a little longer and I assure you, we can save Draco," Snape announced.

"I personally think we should just lock him away and wipe him out of your mind," Harry muttered. "It would be the best option. You don't need a beast like him, 'Mione. He's not even worth a memory."

Hermione barely heard him. Her mind was buzzing, thinking back to when he offered her a venue for her birthday. What did say? He wanted some of her minions to help create a pill that…changed a person's demeanor?

Her eyes shot open. No doubt at that time he was already reverting back, and yet, wasn't his request a testament to his struggle? That he was trying to resist the curse? If he really was the horrible monster Harry was making him out to be, wouldn't he have easily succumbed to his dark desires and had his way with her? Instead, it seemed as though he was genuinely trying to find a way out, even though he slipped along the way from time to time.

She made her decision.

"I want to remember," she said clearly, her back straightening.

The two men looked at her as if they were about to argue but she wouldn't back down. It was one thing to hear everything from other accounts, but the only way for her to fully understand the situation was to remember everything. It was the only fair to Draco after all. She didn't want to judge him on dicey information.

"I had a feeling you'd say that," Harry sighed, frustrated but not at all surprised.

"Well, if you were really my friend, you'd help me unlock my memories and support me in this," she said firmly.

Harry shook his head. "It's not that simple."

"I have to agree with Potter, I'm afraid," Severus said. "It would be unsafe to reverse the memory charm, if what you're seeking is a better understanding of Draco. You would most likely lose your impartiality on the matter as the emotions that grappled you in the past would come to surface."

"In other words," Harry interrupted, "Malfoy _brainwashed_ you and controlled your every thought. There'd be no question whose side you'd be on."

Hermione frowned, her heart pounding. What exactly happened to her? Did she really want to remember? She squared her shoulders. No, she did. "So what do you suggest?" she asked.

"We've discussed it and the best course of action would be to use the Pensive. You would see your memories but as you are now, so you could witness everything with fresh eyes," Severus explained. "I suggest if you wish for a true objective version, we combine all three of our memories."

While Harry looked vexed, Hermione nevertheless nodded. "I understand. Is there anything else?"

Suddenly Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Since you don't remember, I should warn you most of what you're going to see is after we recovered you from your first mission," he said. "You were captured but worked undercover in enemy territory. It all went downhill after we rescued you."

Hermione wondered how he could say so much while revealing so little. She narrowed her eyes but she decided this was an argument she could have with him later.

She was finally going to find out everything.

Hermione took a deep breath.

* * *

Whew! So…what did you think? I'm dying for feedback, good or bad. Lay it on me, I'm here to learn! Please stop by my livejournal in case you have any questions (I may be able to answer a few there) or just because! Lurkers are welcomed, obviously!

So the next few chapters or so will be a flashback (which I personally love). Also, these chapters will be smut heavy. Muahahaha!

Anyway, that's about it, dunno when I'll find inspiration to do the next fic but reviews always gets my motor running. Till next time, my hearts!


	17. Pensive, Part 1

The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I am sobbing. SOBBING on the inside, because I don't own a thing I'm writing. But it's okay. My own personal creation Herry Pottar will comfort me with some sweet, sweet lovin. Yes, I'm bringing him back – I'm bringing them ALL back.

* * *

_ Man…cannot learn to forget, but hangs on the past: however far or fast he run, that chain runs with him. _

The floor was hard and cold. She should really move to the bed. But she had been sitting on the wooden floor for hours. For _days_. It just seemed like too much effort to move now.

Hermione sighed, dragging her fingers through her unruly hair until they became tangled. What a coward she was. The raid was over, the mission was over. She was back safe and sound, so why couldn't she **_move_**? It was like she was trapped inside her own lethargic body. She wanted so badly to get up, to get out of that dark, arctic room and do something.

But every time her fingers brushed that plain, rusted doorknob flashes of glassy eyes and blood oozing on the ground burned into her brain. And then she would turn around and sit back down on the floor and covered her head with her arms.

Gods, Harry and Ron were right to doubt her. She really couldn't handle anything. How selfish she was being, how sheltered. Everybody else went through it, with probably even more gruesome experiences, and yet. And yet. They were all downstairs, laughing, talking, contributing, fighting, **_living_**. They didn't hole themselves in someone's room, rocking back and forth. They were soldiers.

She was a **child**.

As the sun dipped down below the horizon, a light yet firm tap came from the opposite side of the door. She didn't answer. She never did. The door opened slowly, heavy boots trudged in, the only noise echoing in the room. She didn't even bother looking up. She knew who it was.

Draco gently placed a plate of food on the floor next to her. He straightened and looked at her like he always did, assessing her silently. He waited for a few moments, waiting to see if she would say anything.

She didn't.

Then he turned and softly closed the door behind him with a click.

* * *

Draco went back downstairs to join the rest of the Order. He surveyed the crowd; everyone there was mostly his age, maybe slightly older. He ran his hand through his silky hair – it was getting long. The way it tickled the nape of his neck bothered him.

"Oy, Malfoy, get over here for moment," Ron called out from across the room. He gestured for him with his hand. Draco dutifully complied and sat with him at the table cluttered with maps and quills.

"How is she?" Ron asked a little softer, his bright blue eyes cloudy.

Draco shrugged. "Same as always, eating, barely talking. She's not really crying anymore, just sits there on the floor – can't for the life of me get her on the bed."

Harry, who had been silent until then, shook his head. "Poor 'Mione," he uttered under his breath. He turned to Draco. "I want to see her."

"Me too!" Ron said. "She's probably feeling lonely and needs us to – "

Draco bristled unconsciously at this. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said, trying to keep the bite out of his words. "I told you, seeing her would only make her feel worse."

"Just because Ron has a tendency to put his foot up his arse all the time doesn't mean he'd say something stupid in front of Hermione," Harry chastised, punching Ron lightly in the shoulder.

Draco shook his head. "I'm not talking about his special gift for fucking things up," he said, earning a dirty glare from Ron. "One look at the two of you and she'd fall apart."

At the empty looks they were giving him he sighed. Tell him again how the fate of the War was somehow nestled on these two idiotic pair of shoulders? "Look, she's not locking herself up just because of what happened. She feels **_guilty_**, right? She feels like she failed you and we all know how she gets when she thinks she's failed at something. Just give her some time."

"But we don't think she failed at anything!" Harry exclaimed, the desire to see her increasing. "That's why we should see her, to let her know that!"

"It doesn't matter what you think!" Draco shot back. "I know you don't think that, you know you don't think that, but all that means **_shit_** because she won't believe a word you say to her. Everything you say will get warped in her head and she'll feel even worse afterwards."

"But – !" Ron attempted before getting cut off.

"Absolute truth doesn't mean a thing," Draco scoffed. "All that matters is perception. You could be completely mad for me, Weasley, but if I believe you're nothing but a straight-and-narrow bloke, then in my world that's all you are." He smirked. "That's why I threw out all those flowers and chocolates, mate. Can't even wrap it around my mind you love me."

While Ron grumbled expletives, Harry grinned. Malfoy was really getting better at diffusing tense situations and knowing how to deal with people in general. No wonder he was accepted by practically everyone at HQ lately. Though he was still worried about Hermione, he knew she was in good hands and she would pull though somehow.

"What I want to know is, how she can tolerate your slimy mug but can't even look at us?" Harry asked, breaking up their mini-squabble.

" I'm just a shining beacon of hope, I suppose. Can't help it if she trusts me more than the both of you." Though he said this nonchalantly, he couldn't help but preen a little at the privilege.

"Can't wait until she snaps out of it and kicks him right in the natters," Ron growled, walking off to get a drink.

Draco turned to Harry with an eyebrow raised. "He's just jealous he can't even get anywhere near my natters."

Harry shook his head, easily resting an elbow on Draco's shoulder. "Aren't we all?"

* * *

It wasn't until late at night did Draco return to his room. After softly knocking, he unlocked the door, not at all surprised to see her still sitting on the floor with her back against the dresser. He wondered idly if she was even cold in that skimpy white nightgown. He closed the door behind him.

Any good humor that was on his face dissolved as soon as he walked into the room. He squinted, his eyes not quite adjusting to the dark; the only light in the room was the moonlight filtering between the blinds on the window.

He really…he really didn't know what to do with her. He just didn't know how to take care of another human being.

Draco looked around, his spirits lifting slightly. It looked like she was up and about for at least little bit it seemed. Books were strewn everywhere, plates and cups and utensils were all over the place. The sheets to the bed were on the floor and the pillow near the dresser. She was getting restless.

Good.

Not knowing what to say to her – he _never_ knew what to say to her – he silently began cleaning up.

Hermione, who didn't even react when he entered the room, suddenly opened her eyes wide as he began tidying up. A wave of guilt washed over her. Obviously he was tired from his day, especially now that he took it upon himself to make up for the work she wasn't doing over at the strategy meetings. And now instead of immediately getting some sleep, he had to clean up after **_her_**?

Guilt was always racing through her mind the whole time she had closed herself off in his room. Somehow though, this time, the guilt was enough to make her rise on shaky legs and walk up to him. Maybe she was tired of her selfishness and this was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Or maybe, she just couldn't stand burdening him anymore.

"Sorry," she said softly, her voice raspy with misuse. Draco quickly whipped his head around, his pale, gray eyes bright with confusion. "Let me take care of it."

Hermione didn't know how long they stood there, just looking at each other like it was the first time they really saw each other. She moved first to close the gap between them but she overestimated her body. After sitting in that curled up position on the floor for so long, blood finally flowed freely through her legs; the intense sensation of pins and needles finally hit her and she stumbled forward.

Draco deftly caught her in his arms, one around her waist and the other on her shoulders. "Don't push yourself," he murmured. He shifted her and pushed her gently to sit on the bed. He turned around and resumed righting the room.

Without him even saying so, she knew what he meant when he set her on the bed. "I couldn't take your bed,' she said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Take it," he grunted, pushing the books into the shelf. "I don't use it anyway."

She looked at him quizzically. Now that she thought about it, she had never really seen him sleep. He usually got in after she fell asleep and when she woke up, no matter how early, he was always gone, the bed neatly made.

He gestured to the wide ledge by the window without turning around. "What man sleeps on a bed when a woman's sleeping on the floor, for God's sake," he muttered.

If she wasn't feeling guilty then, she definitely was now.

"You've…been sleeping on the _ledge_?" she whispered, her large brown eyes widening.

When he didn't answer, she cursed herself a thousand times over. Wracked with guilt, she mechanically rose from the bed and stumbled back to the dresser. She sullenly sat down with a thud and once again wrapped her arms over her head.

She didn't hear him sigh. She didn't even know he had crossed the room until she heard him slide down the dresser and sat down next to her, joining her. Her heart raced. She hadn't been within such close quarters with him ever since the mission. He smelled exactly the same, if not better. He smelled of crisp linen, tobacco smoke, and a musky manliness that was purely Draco.

Draco drew up one leg while letting the other extend carelessly on the floor. He leaned slightly against her, which made her cheeks burn. He was so **_warm_**. Hermione's heart nearly leaped out of her throat when reached behind her neck with his right arm, placing his hand gently on the right side of her head. He lightly pushed her head toward him, so that she rested against his shoulder. She slowly brought down her arms and took a deep breath.

She offhandedly noticed how firm his shoulder was. Once her heart stopped beating like a hummingbird's, she realized for the first time since coming back, she felt…calm. She exhaled, settling in. Her eyes began drooping, sleep overtaking her. She would later wonder if he had really leaned over and kissed her curly hair, his breath hot and soothing. Or was that a dream?

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. All that was left to remind her of his comfort was the sheet from the bed wrapped carefully around her.

* * *

"How was it?" Ron asked, his cheeks smudged with dirt.

Draco nodded his head. "We found their stronghold and captured at least eighty-percent of their cell."

"And the other twenty?"

He grimaced. "Dead."

Ron didn't ask any further. Just one look at Malfoy's face and he knew he did most of the killing. As twisted as it sounded, Ron couldn't explain the overwhelming relief he felt when he found out about Draco's pure distaste for it.

He was **_damned_** good at it though, let no one say any different. A natural. He did what needed to be done with no hesitation but it was clear he hated to kill.

The War shed all involved of bravado and displayed their true colors. It revealed the cowards, the brave and the bloodthirsty. Ron's heart went out to those who were beginning to enjoy the hunt, the kill. If this war lasted much longer, it would be hard to distinguish them from the Dark Wizards they were sworn to stop. Though it pained him to see Malfoy take the toll of killing so hard, it also relieved him.

Draco was one of the good ones. That was all he needed to know.

"Harry and Snape want to see you," he said with an apologetic look. He knew all Draco wanted to do was shower and go to his room. When he began working more and more in the light, it became a routine for him to take a long, hot shower to clean himself right after a mission.

Draco swore but acknowledged the order. He brushed past Ron with a clap to the shoulder. Ron resumed walking, his mouth set in a hard line. He needed to see the prisoners and try to glean as much information from them as possible. Not the greatest of tasks but Harry trusted him the most for the job.

If it wasn't completely imperative for Draco to do these missions, he would have refused his orders a long time ago. It wasn't until recently that Draco was merely a spy, gathering and passing along information. Once suspicion was cast upon him, he mostly disappeared from the Dark Lord's sights, hoping that his presence would not be missed and it would be assumed that he was merely doing some vague task for the Dark.

When his betrayal became more apparent, he took up a formal residence at the Order's headquarters and worked behind the scenes with the strategists and performed minor missions. But now that so many on their side had fallen, he was chosen to fight directly in the frontlines.

"I was just briefed by Jones," Harry said immediately when Draco entered the room. Draco merely nodded for him to continue.

"We know you just came back from a mission but we were wondering if you were up for another one the day after tomorrow? It's another raid," Severus said, thrusting a folder in front of him.

Draco schooled his features so that they remained impassive. He leafed though the files. "Intelligence has it that this cell consists of mostly Bellatrix's followers," he said, looking up to his godfather.

Severus gravely nodded. He knew what a difficult mission it would be. Even if Draco had no qualms over fighting with a member of his family, Bellatrix's followers mostly consisted of women. It was a brilliant idea on her part. She knew exactly how to weaken the mostly male soldiers of the Light. What morally righteous man could easily take down a woman, no matter how evil? All they needed was that moment of hesitation and victory would be theirs. Voldemort also knew of this and so entrusted some of his most precious information to them.

They had tried hard to avoid this confrontation for as long as they could. However, Intelligence managed to discover exactly how important some of the information her cell held. They **needed** to bring them down.

Harry and Severus held their breath. After scanning the pages one last time, Draco closed the folder with a snap.

"Obviously I need as many women as I can on this," he announced. The two nodded, just glad he was able to think pragmatically about the whole situation. After some more thought, he turned to Harry. "And I want you and Weasley there with me," he said simply, much to the surprise of Harry. "If I don't get the two of you, you can forget about the whole thing."

Dry mouthed, Harry nodded again. "Definitely," he said, with conviction.

"Good. Potter, Godfather," he said curtly, bidding them goodbye as he left the room.

"Don't start fancying him now, Potter," Severus said dryly, giving Harry a long look. "He knows you two can read him best in combat, that's all."

Harry shook himself out of it. "I'm laughing on the inside," he muttered with a scowl, turning back to the files. "Let's just organize the rest of the squad, all right?"

* * *

Draco watched dispassionately as all the blood and dirt swirled around the shower drain before disappearing entirely. What was he doing? Water from his hair dripped into his eyes, stinging them slightly. He waited until the heat from the shower slowly dissipated and began feeling the cold kiss of the air on his wet skin before breathing again.

Sometimes…sometimes, he wished that if he could stay like this long enough, he could become frozen. Then maybe things would get easier for him. He slammed the side of his fist into the slick, tiled wall of the shower. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the dead falling over and over in front of him. He could hear their dying screams and pleas. The smell of rotting flesh. The taste of coppery blood. The look of betrayal on some of them. Just today, he killed a fellow Slytherin; he vaguely remembered him. He was a year younger than him and he remembered he had caught him once wandering late in the halls one night and he had to dock him House points. He remembered the bile rising in his throat as the boy cried out in shock when Draco mercilessly shot him down with the Killing Curse.

Even worse, Draco remembered even though killing him was the last thing he personally wanted to do, he felt relieved in the back of his mind, knowing at least one more was down. And he felt that dark glee, that **_satisfaction_** one received knowing a target was hit perfectly, that his skill was perfect…

His Dark Mark immediately flared up with white-hot fire. It was different from the burn a Death Eater received when being called. This pain spread all through his body, all through his veins. Draco gritted his teeth and stumbled, leaning against the cold tiles to steady himself. He began breathing harshly, going through the exercises taught to him to help deal with pain.

After a short while, the pain ebbed. He groaned. It was getting worse and worse and he had no clue as to why. Once he could focus properly again, he grabbed his threadbare towel and began wiping himself down. It was best not to think about it now. He had more important things on his mind.

* * *

Hermione looked up from her book when the door opened. He didn't knock anymore, she noticed. Not like she minded, of course. It **was** his room after all. And he was attentive enough to provide as many books as she wanted. No matter how many she wanted or how obscure or how cumbersome, the next day, the books would be there for her.

She was gradually recovering from her trauma. She was eating properly these days, and she could carry on a conversation when the mood struck her. She could even sleep comfortably on the bed. She mostly read though; her growing collection was mostly Muggle books – it helped keep her mind off her current position. And at the same time, some of the author's words eerily echoed her own thoughts and current situation. It helped her to deal with it all.

But she still couldn't bring herself to go outside her small haven. She couldn't bear the looks she knew she was going to get. She had no doubt Harry and Ron would be supportive but…she was afraid they would be **_too_** supportive. Too gentle, too coddling. It would make her feel even guiltier. And what of everybody else? The looks of pity. The looks of disgust.

Hermione shivered. No, the only person she felt safe with was Draco. Speaking of Draco, she was beginning to worry for him. She immediately noticed a difference in his demeanor once he started fighting out in the open on missions. Before he would enter looking tired but determined. He was able to shake off the day's work and just concentrate on resting and relaxing before repeating everything the next day. Now, he was tired but as if worn from the inside out. He started to carry the battles into the room; it was sticky and dark and clung to him like oil. She swore that even though he always took a thorough shower before coming into the room, he stunk of war.

She wanted to help him in any way she could. She found he always seemed to relax more if she talked to him. About anything. His eyes would soften and the tension in his shoulders would loosen. When she found she ran out of things to say, she would tell him about the books she was reading. He wouldn't really respond, but she knew that he appreciated it and listened intently. And to be honest, reading aloud from her books helped her too. It made her more comfortable in her skin again, if only briefly.

Tonight she was eager to read to him certain passages she knew he would find fascinating. She had discovered his interest definitely peaked whenever she read to him about philosophy. He was one of the few people that she knew, her age at least, who could properly grasp it. It delighted and surprised her to no end.

When he closed the door, she opened her mouth to speak but immediately stopped when he looked at her. It must have been a bad day, then. She sat back and readjusted herself in the squishy chair. Despite Draco's grim demeanor, she couldn't help but smile in memory. When she started to sleep on the bed, she knew Draco continued to sleep on the wooden ledge by the window. She was pretty sure no matter what she did, he would never sleep on the bed and finally get that good night's rest he so richly deserved.

So one day, when she was listing off the books she wanted, she gave him a look and added, "Oh, and a chair. A comfortable one."

He had raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of water. "What's wrong with that chair?" He pointed vaguely with his cup. "Or the bed."

She shifted her eyes. "I find I do my best reading in a comfortable chair," she said nervously. She really had to work on her lying abilities.

He gave her a long stare. She stared back. Finally he shrugged, letting the matter go. She breathed a sigh of relief. Once the chair had been delivered, she knew he began sleeping in it and was definitely getting a better night's sleep. Hermione was pretty sure he had known what her motive was, but as always, he indulged her. Just like when he had let her sleep on the floor even though she knew every cell in his body was ordering him to just grab her and throw her on to the bed. Or when he had never forced her to talk or to leave his room "for her own good."

Shaking herself out of her memories, she concentrated on what was in front of her. It was strange. More and more it seemed like it was **_her_** helping to ease _his_ pain. But that was all right with her. She was indebted to him. Hermione couldn't even contemplate how much she owed him – anything she could do to help him, she swore, she would.

She would do anything.

Draco's eyes seemed shaded, cloudy, like he was lost in his own thoughts. Hermione softly padded to the bed in the middle of the room and sat down on the bed. She could feel his eyes following her. She suppressed a shiver. His eyes were different today. They burned her.

Nevertheless, she opened her book. "Have you ever heard of the Marquis De Sade?" she asked quietly.

He didn't respond but that didn't deter her. Something about the silence in the room tonight was different. Heavier. She felt that she needed to fill it up or else... or else… well, she didn't know what would happen but she felt uncomfortable. "He was a sixteenth century philosopher, er, of sorts," she continued.

"I know of him," Draco finally said, pouring a glass of alcohol. He had formed a habit to drink two glasses of Fire Whiskey before he looked over a few notes and then sleeping. "The sadist, right?" He smirked a little.

Hermione nodded.

"And what does my French libertine have to say that's in any way constructive?" he asked. He downed the whole glass in one gulp and slammed it onto the dresser.

She turned a page. "He had some very interesting views. Some call him progressive, some call him a misogynist," she said, not daring to look up. He was circling her now, like a vulture.

"Oh?" was all he said.

"Well, he had views like, '_In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice._' " She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice.

"Interesting," he said softly, his deep voice vibrating the whole room. "Sounds more like an excuse to go wild to me. Convince me some more."

"Um…'_Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature's mandates,_' " she said nervously. "He was an atheist, so…"

She trailed off, distracted instead by Draco sitting down on the bed next to her. **_Very_** next to her.

"Go on," he breathed, his breath spicy. Even when seated he towered over her by a good head.

Hermione stuttered. "W-Well, what would you like to hear?" Could her cheeks get any redder?

"He was quite the randy fellow, wasn't he? Surely there's something in there that describes **_that_**side of him," he suggested silkily.

Oh yes, her cheeks and even ears burned hot. "Er…um…'_It…It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure_?' " she squeaked. He wasn't…he didn't want to do…**that**, did he? Not with her. He said it was all for the mission.

"Now that's more like it," he whispered. "Anything else?"

"He uh…ah!" she suddenly blurted out. She stiffly bit her lip and remained rigid even though he was purposefully, boldly, slipping the straps to her nightgown down her shoulders.

"Yes?" he asked easily, not at all deterred. He continued slowly but steadily, his purpose clear. He began lazily unhooking the small eyelet hooks on the back of her gown.

"Um,_' "Sex is as important as eating or drinking and …and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the…as the other,_' " she whispered, shaking.

"**That** was the one I was looking for," Draco said lightly. He plucked her book out of her numb hands with his thumb and index finger and tossed it carelessly to the floor.

"W-wait, what are you –!"

"Ah," he tutted as he grasped her upper arms with both hands and gently pushed her down onto the mattress. "If it's not a quote, I don't want to hear it."

Once she was firmly pressed against the bed he moved above her, balancing himself on all fours. She looked up at his smoky gray eyes, her breath short.

"How much information **_do_** you have stored in there, Granger," he asked, lightly brushing a stray curl from her face. When she didn't answer, he merely chuckled, one corner of his mouth curving slightly upwards.

"That's all right," he said quietly, dipping his head down so that their lips barely touched. He tilted his head to the side slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm going to get all the way inside you until I find out. But don't be scared."

His hands moved down her body.

"I'm going to do it very, _very_ slowly."

* * *

Ron, Harry and Draco were all standing on the balcony, looking at the murky twilight. The moon was so bright and full there was no need for lights. Without the moonlight though, it would have been difficult to see the three figures; they were wearing the standard issue uniform for Order soldiers – deep, midnight blue trench coats with black shirts underneath, and black slacks with black dragon-hide boots over them.

"I don't think it'll be too bad," Ron announced, breaking the solemn air.

Harry and Draco exchanged a look.

"Yes, of course," Draco said with a sneer. "Anything involving dragons should be a walk in the park."

"I can't believe they're making you go," Harry said softly. He thought he would be fighting this war with his best friends at his side.

"Oh, don't be so glum, Harry," Ron scoffed with cheer. "Charlie's got all his good men gone and he's left with nothing but feckin' nobs. It shouldn't take long – all we got to do is gather as many dragons as we can and I'll be back before you know it."

"I know, I just have a bad feeling is all," Harry said. Except for a few summer holidays back in Hogwarts, he realized he had never been apart from Ron for any long period of time.

Being men, there wasn't much to say after that. They looked out once more at the darkened landscape.

A rustling from Draco's end broke the silence once more. Opening up black and gold metal case, he slipped a cigarette into his mouth. Wordlessly, he held it in front of Harry. Harry instinctually obliged and took one out for himself as well. With a smirk, Draco moved on to Ron, shaking the case enticingly.

Ron grinned and flipped him off. "Up yours," he said without malice.

Harry snapped his fingers and lit his cigarette, inhaling the soothing smoke. "You have got to be the most fucking bent man I know," he muttered to Draco. "Can't you keep your fags in the box like a normal bloke?"

Draco purposefully blew smoke in their faces. "At least I'm not dead scared of my mum. She's not even **_here_** Weasley, would it kill you to try it once?"

"Oh no, it's bad enough you got Harry on it," Ron warned. "Don't think you're going to drag me down to sickness and disease like the lot of you."

After a few more drags, Draco gave them a long look. Harry tapped the ash off his cigarette. "What?"

"Seeing as how it's Weasley's last day here, you lads fancy a visit to your favorite girl?" he asked nonchalantly.

Ron and Harry stared at him. They blinked. He continued to smoke.

"You mean we can really see her?" Harry asked so exuberantly his cigarette fell out of his mouth.

"About bloody time! Took you damn long enough, Malfoy!" Ron joined in, already opening the doors to the building.

"Hey, I'm just the messenger!" Draco shot back. "She heard you're getting shipped out so she's been prepping herself all day. Don't bring me into this."

As they filed out and quickly made way to Draco's room, their deep voices echoed throughout the empty hallway.

"…you ever could."

"That's it, you're officially banned from my room – no more late night trysts for you."

"Oh, fuck you…!"

* * *

Draco rolled his eyes, wishing he had a watch to see how much time had passed.

It was embarrassing, the way those two hovered over her, doing nothing but holding her tightly and whispering promises in each other's ears. Ron was currently locked in another firm embrace, rocking back and forth while Hermione tried to keep from sobbing by burying her face in his broad shoulders. Harry wasn't too far away and was crouched by them, his brilliant green eyes soft for the first time in a long while.

"You have to come back Ron, you **_have_** to," Hermione whispered fiercely, her voice watery from emotion.

"I will, I swear," Ron said lowly, stroking her hair. "You have to take care of Harry, okay? God knows what he'll do without me."

Hermione laughed despite herself. She nodded, looking up at Harry. He smiled and brushed her cheek lovingly.

"My turn again," he said, hitting Ron's head lightly with the back of his hand.

"No," Ron said, hugging Hermione closer. "I'm the one who's leaving, so I call bagsies."

Draco could just vomit. But he took a deep breath and shook himself. Let them have their fun. He hadn't heard her laugh for a long time anyway.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered after the playfulness died down. "I've been hiding in here while you're – "

"Don't you dare apologize!" Ron said fiercely. "You're safe, that's all that matters."

"No!" Hermione continued. She slipped out of his grasp, holding Ron at arm's length. She straightened her back and looked at them. "I…I'm getting better, I really am. I'm going to do my part too, just give me a little more time and I'll be right there with you again."

They nodded, relieved she was almost back to her stubborn self. She caught Draco's gaze, averting it before quickly meeting his eyes again. He nodded at her. Hermione smiled and nodded back.

But when they began another round of hugging and kissing, Draco had to look away, gagging.

* * *

The image of the three of them huddled together while he stood seemingly miles away haunted Draco for the next few days. Every time it popped up in his mind, he growled and quickly thought of something else. Though it was easy to move his thoughts to something else, the very fact that it kept on appearing while he was trying to concentrate irritated him.

In fact, ever since Hermione mustered up the strength to rejoin her comrades, he had been on edge. He wasn't sure why. She was integrating herself relatively smoothly, with everyone being supportive. Or at least, they weren't openly hostile or judgmental as far as he could tell. To the casual observer, she seemed to be doing fine, like nothing had changed. She spoke with a clear voice and she performed all of her tasks with precision and cunning. But on closer inspection, he could see the way her eyes held a spark of uncertainty. She didn't look people in the eye as confidently as before. Sometimes her voice would waver or she wouldn't bother to chime in at all.

Other than that, though, she was progressing marvelously and the whole strategy team was glad to have her back.

Too glad, in Draco's opinion.

Sitting almost as far away from her as possible, Draco took the opportunity to observe her while she got in a semi-heated argument with Dan Brookes, a man who graduated from Hogwarts ten years before they did.

"And I'm saying that if we send them out **_here_**, they're going to be out in the open, exposed for all to see!" he countered, jabbing his finger at the map.

"Yes, but we don't have much of a choice, do we?" Hermione said, exasperated she had to say this again and again. "If we don't send them out, our other three units will be trapped in with no one to aid them and there's a very high chance all four of our units will suffer heavy casualties!"

"So you're willing to risk the lives of that unit, for a _chance_ of success?" Dan asked, looking at her knowingly.

Hermione stiffened. She knew what that look meant. It said: Look at you, you're still shaken up from **your** mission. Are you sure you want to impose that on anyone else? She bit her lip. It was true she didn't want anyone to experience what she did. Who was she to make them go through it when she herself couldn't handle it?

"_No_," she thought firmly. "_It's the only way_."

"Every day, every second any of our people are out there for _any_ reason, we're risking their lives," she said with quiet conviction. The room grew silent. "It may be cruel to think of them as building blocks to victory, but it's a cruelness we have to shoulder as strategists. They didn't entrust their lives, their **_cause_**, to us because they thought we would keep them safe. They chose us because they knew we could use them in ways that would have us **win**."

Dan assessed her. She stood firm. And then he broke out into a smile.

"That's our girl!" he announced, picking her up and swinging her around, much to her confusion. "We have our Strategos back!"

So it was a test. Draco thought as much. He knew Dan to be a bit soft when it came to sacrifices, but it would have been out of character for him if he really did oppose the current strategy.

While the team hooted and clapped, Dan, in all merriment, swooped in to peck her on the cheeks twice.

Draco's eye twitched.

* * *

"You think he fancies you?" Draco tried to ask casually when they were eating lunch together in the makeshift mess hall.

"Who?" Hermione asked, her doe eyes wide with question.

Draco stabbed the boiled egg with more gusto than necessary. "Brooke. He was slobbering all over you in there."

"Dan?" she queried, scrunching her nose slightly. She had a habit of doing that when she was confused and was thinking hard to catch up. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "You think he fancies me?"

"That's what I asked you," he said impatiently. Though it was a refreshing change to see her acting normally, her chipper attitude was really grating for some reason.

"Umm…," she said after a moment's pause. "I don't think he does," she said slowly.

"Oh? And what, in your infinite wisdom, would make you say that?" he asked, fiddling with his fork.

"You know how you like women? A lot?" she asked, her tone neutral.

Draco narrowed his eyes. What did that have to do with anything? "Yes," he answered anyway.

"Well, Dan's just like that. Only…with men," she said.

Draco choked on his iced tea.

Hermione had to control herself, lest she laughed out loud. She was glad she was able to break out of her shell, if only for moments like these. These normal moments. As Draco tried to nonchalantly wipe the liquid from his shirt, she couldn't help but smile. After seeing him at the lowest of lows, usually after missions, she was happy to see Draco forget about his burdens and just live life.

And it might have been egotistical of her, but she couldn't help but feel slightly self-important, thinking that she had a hand in helping to ease his mind off the War. She found him to be more relaxed, now that the slept on the same bed. Hermione blushed at the thought.

"_N-not really because of **that**_," she thought quickly to herself. "_But most likely because he's finally getting a good night's sleep!_"

Some times (_most of the time_, she interjected once more) Draco was too tired to do anything and would just flop down beside her, sleeping angelically. At first he seemed uncomfortable approaching the bed, like it was some sort of alien entity. But he quickly re-familiarized himself and now dealt with it with ease.

Hermione had a feeling that it wasn't just the sex that eased his troubles. Even when they just slept together, side by side without even touching, he seemed refreshed the next day. Maybe the fact that another warm body was with him through the night helped him.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Sarah Wendall sat down next to Draco. She had folders in her hands and appeared to be talking about some work she had, but Hermione bristled slightly. The way she looked at him and the way she really didn't even look at her papers screamed that it was all a front in order to talk to him.

Draco didn't seem like he minded and talked easily with the brunette with white-blonde highlights. Hermione didn't like the way he looked, the way he acted around other women. She never did. He was so…sickeningly charming. It was like a saccharine overload. She much preferred him when he was being himself. When he was talking with her. Sure, he was a bit prickly and was an absolute oaf when they were in school, but at least he was genuine.

She sighed, swirling her chocolate pudding with her spoon while she watched the two interact. At least, she was hoping she was feeling apprehensive because she didn't like his slick persona, not because she was **_jealous_** or anything. Hermione didn't know what to call their relationship. She didn't think they fit the bill as lovers, but they weren't quite friends either. Two souls thrown together in the face of adversary, finding comfort in one another? That seemed to be more accurate, if not quite wordy.

Hermione put a glob of the pudding in her mouth. She had no illusions and didn't dare to hope that he felt an eternal, burning love for her. It was enough that he trusted her and turned to her when he felt moments of weakness. So far it seemed like he wasn't traipsing with any other woman but if he ever did…she didn't know what she would do. It wasn't like she had an exclusive hold on him or anything, but still.

It was the principle of the thing.

* * *

_ The surest aid in combating the male's disease of self-contempt is to be loved by a clever woman. _

Hermione's head smashed against the wall. Her vision doubled and the back of her head seemed to have exploded into an array of fireworks. She wasn't expecting Draco back so soon. She had just finished reading and was getting ready to go take a hot shower when he stomped into the room, his hair still wet from his own shower.

He had slammed the door shut with a kick and marched over to her, his eyes crackling with anger.

"They killed them!" he barked out, flinging his coat on the floor with frustration.

"Who?" she asked, quickly crossing the room to him. He sharply looked at her. She gulped as the air around the room suddenly changed. That was when he had slammed her against the wall, roughly bringing his lips to hers. Their teeth clacked at the force but that didn't deter him. He deftly unbuttoned her shirt and began working on her pants.

Hermione felt that familiar rush when he shoved his tongue into her mouth, licking and fighting its way for dominance. Despite the ringing in her head, she felt herself melt into his embrace and allowed him, as always, to do whatever he desired with her.

He threw her onto the bed and quickly ripped off her pants, leaving her in nothing but a black, lacy bra and matching panties. Her nipples automatically hardened from the chilled air. Draco stripped off his shirt and was already unbuckling his belt by the time he joined her. He slipped his large hand under her head and lifted it, crushing her mouth with his once more. Draco groaned deep in her mouth as his hand traveled down her soft body and traced her underwear.

Hermione gasped when he straddled her, his weight pushing the air out of her lungs momentarily. He firmly gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. She was thankful that it was the end of autumn, nearing the beginning of winter – her wardrobe was able to hide all the bruises and love marks that he left her. He was progressively getting rougher and rougher with her, like the ease that she used to give him was getting harder to come by and he had to squeeze, shake and force it out of her.

Her attention refocused back on him when he flicked open her front bra clasp, his eyes smoldering. Her supple breasts, not too large but perky, were begging for him to fondle. Hermione saw his head of angelic blond hair dip down and suddenly she threw her head back and moaned. The contrast of the cold air with his hot and wet mouth drove her crazy. He suckled voraciously on her nipple while roughly squeezing and massaging her other. Draco alternated from lapping at her nipple with the flat of his tongue to endlessly flicking it with the tip to sucking on it intensely. When he switched breasts, his fingers twisted and pulled at her already erect nipple.

The attention he was lavishing on her breasts caused Hermione to pant and grind her hips upwards. She could feel his hard erection pressed against the flat of her stomach. The thought of that large member impaling her over and over again made her wet beyond imagination. That thought must have crossed Draco's mind as well because he suddenly grew impatient, no longer satisfied with playing with her tits.

With a growl, he retracted himself and grabbed a fistful of her panties, yanking it down and off her legs. Hermione squealed. Draco lifted her long legs so that they rested over his shoulders, his cock pressed against her sopping opening. Before he went any further, he leaned forward, which made her wince from the stretching. He reached out and grasped her wrists, holding them both down near the sides of her head. It was as if he was scared she would try to escape.

But he wouldn't let her.

Without warning, he entered her, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head with ecstasy. She was so wet, so tight. Hermione moaned as he began to move back and forth. She could feel everything, from his thick head down to his pubic hair grinding into her. He drove into her relentlessly, pounding into her with a frantic rhythm.

"Ooh gods…!" she moaned, wanting to grab onto him, scratch him, touch him. She tried to break free of his crushing grip but it was useless. Her struggling made him thrust deeper into her, forcing her to understand who was claiming her.

"Beg for it!" he rasped, his voice deeper and raspy with lust. "Tell me you love it! You love every inch of it!"

Hermione panted harder. She knew it shouldn't be so, but whenever he began to talk dirty to her she became even more excited. "P-Please!" she gasped out like a prayer. She could feel the build-up winding in the depths of her belly, waiting to uncoil throughout her body. Her breathing became even more erratic. Finally, she **came**. The intense pleasure flooded through her veins and she let out a strangled cry.

When she began just screaming and moaning sounds, unable to form any coherent words, he lost it. She was babbling with pleasure and it was all because of him. He pumped into her sloppily, all the way to the hilt. The way her inner walls squeezed around his member and sucked on it was indescribable. He thrust into her a few more times, making the frame of the bed bang into the wall and threw his head back. With a groan, he released his seed into her womb, her vaginal walls milking his penis dry.

Sated, he collapsed on top of her. The room was silent except for their harsh breathing. After catching his breath, he rolled over. Hermione shivered – the cold air was giving her goosebumps now that Draco wasn't there to blanket her. She grabbed the comforter to cover herself up but once it was pulled up to her chin, Draco lazily grabbed it and swung it off her.

"I'm cold!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms and trying not to let her teeth chatter.

"Well, I don't want you covered up," he drawled without really looking at her, instead opted to reach over to light a cigarette.

She fumed. "Could you please do that outside? I thought I told you I hate the smell."

He muttered something under his breath but managed to take one drag before stubbing it out on the ashtray. Draco then reached over and pulled her to his side, letting her warm up against his body heat. She sighed contently and threw an arm and a leg over him.

Once their souls settled down to earth a bit, Draco's eyes grew solemn again. Hermione could tell the subtle change in his mood just by the way his body felt.

"I couldn't stop them," he said quietly. He was one of the more seasoned soldiers in that unit but those stubborn idiots wouldn't listen to his orders, thinking that since he was once a Death Eater, his word couldn't be trusted. He had told them not to enter the building without first waiting for their scout to come back. He had told them it smelled like a trap the second he saw the layout of the land. Nevertheless, they went running in, wands raised.

The entire building imploded and collapsed on them the second they entered. They didn't stand a chance. Draco was furious. He was furious not only because of the death of the majority of his unit, but also because the entire mission had then fallen on his (and only a few others) shoulders. He cursed their stupidity, he cursed the enemy's cold-bloodedness, he cursed his life. Killing off the little bastards was surprisingly easy for him this time. There was this sense of **_fulfillment_** he felt when they went down. It felt good.

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione whispered, kissing his shoulder.

He looked at her, his eyes softening.

"Yeah…I know."

* * *

Hermione tried to wipe her tears and erase all signs that she had been crying. He would be back from debriefing soon, and she would hate for him to know that she had cried in any way. He was so cold that morning, when he came back from an overnight stint. It was like, one moment she was chatting with a few friends, the next Draco stormed past her but not before glaring at her, his eyes telling her that he had a **_lot_** to say to her once they were alone.

Somehow, within the few months they had started sleeping together, their relationship changed. It was quickly degenerating into something she was unfamiliar with and afraid of. Before he was frustrated and disturbed by what he experienced on the battlefield. Now, it seemed to have spilt over into his everyday life and it didn't matter who the focus of his anger was. For example, lately, it was like he was angry **_at_** her all the time. Everything she did appeared to set him off.

Normally she wouldn't take that kind of attitude. If he was upset over something, fine. But he shouldn't take that out on her, right?

Right.

But she refrained. Because after he released all of his feelings on her, yelling or otherwise, it was like he was back to normal. And he was always apologetic afterwards. She was like a sponge, absorbing all of his dark moods and cleansing him. He was able to function like he usually did after he was through with her.

She had heard about that one time. When she was away with Shacklebolt and Hagrid for an errand that lasted three days. Draco had returned the same day she had left and he was a right mess.

They told her he was moody and withdrawn at first, which didn't exactly shock anybody, but as the day progressed he became more and more irritable. Hermione came back to find a headquarters in disarray with over ten people covered in various bruises.

And Draco was locked up in his room, tied spread-eagle across his bed. It was at Fred and George's suggestion. Apparently Draco had begun picking fights with whoever crossed his path. He was finally taken down by Harry, who charged at him from the shadows, punching him in the face and kneeing him in gut. Of course, Draco had managed to break his glasses and his nose.

Harry would have objected to the humiliating way Draco was tied down but the damn bastard broke his _glasses_. Criminal.

However, if Hermione was around, Draco didn't seem so disturbed. She believed she had a calming effect on him. George said it was because after all her nagging, he would just be dead inside, with no strength left to do anything. George was still recovering from his pinched ear.

The thought of that little incident made Hermione laugh a little. She decided it was okay, the way things were. She knew he didn't mean anything he said. And really, he needed her help. It was a small sacrifice.

Right after she decided she was all right with her situation, Draco entered the room with his impeccable timing. He was glaring at her.

Hermione squared her shoulders.

She would save him.

* * *

Whoosh. I'm not sure what to think of this chapter, but I hope everyone enjoyed it. I don't know if the humor was out of place but seriously, I think it had to be done. Too much darkyness is bad.

I really wanted to showcase how different everyone's relationship was back in the war, in contrast to their Post-war days. I find it a bit sad and nostalgic that they were all so tight-knit but later grew apart (in more ways than one, of course).

The two pretentious quotes that appeared in italics are NOT mine (I am NOT that stupid to steal them and claim as mine), but belong to the ever genius Friedrich Nietzsche. I am well aware there is a fic out there called "The Nietzsche Classes" and a WONDERFUL fic, but I am not trying to rip on it. I just really, really like some of his quotes and think some of them really apply to my themes here.

Also, when Draco said he's going to get up all into Hermione very slowly bit, I KNOW I've read a line similar to that somewhere, but I'm not sure if it was in a fic or a book or a movie or what. So. Yeah. It's not mine originally, but I'm not copying it verbatim either. If someone knows where it came from, I'd be ever so grateful.

More on this and the next chapter on the livejournal!

OH, and PS – I'm going to Japan on the 16th - 25th of Feb, so positively no updates during that time. After that, who knows P This trip is thanks to my rich aunty who loves to spend money. On some lark, she invited me, my brother and our cousin to join her on a trip to Japan, all expenses paid!! I don't know about the rest of you, but I ain't gonna pass that shit up.

Love you all for even reading, but leave me some kisses and reviews, yeah???

Muah!


	18. Pensive, Part 2

-1The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: NC-17

Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. But I do own you. **Now dance for me.**

Warning: Extreme NC-17 scene here - NonCon and the like. Read at your own risk!**  
**

* * *

"I can't believe you live here," Harry whispered as they moved quickly in the deep of night.

"Lived, Potter," Draco retorted. "And you said that three times already. Enough."

Harry paused to motion for the five others behind them to scramble and get into position. When the two of them reached the front door, Harry turned to Draco and said, "Are you sure you want to do this without them?"

Draco pulled down his hood, his blond hair almost illuminating in the dark. "He has too much to answer for to leave it to them. He's _**my**_ father."

Harry nodded. The main reason Draco came to the Order was because his father killed his mother in front of his eyes. He gripped his wand tightly. Harry knew Draco was more than capable of handling this mission but he couldn't help but worry.

Draco was acting more and more unhinged lately, displaying a crueler side that Harry had hoped was just a front. Reports were coming back that Draco was significantly more brutal and aggressive than necessary and was cause for some concern. Which was why he was relieved when Draco had asked him to be his second for this mission. That way he could keep an eye out for him.

"Hey," Draco suddenly said, breaking Harry out of his reverie.

He turned, facing his once nemesis. Draco's face was solemn, his gray eyes swirling like liquid mercury.

"If things go bad in there…**leave**."

"Don't be stupid!" Harry barked. "Like I could just leave!"

Usually Draco would respond just as heatedly, with even more insults coming out of his mouth. This time he didn't even respond to Harry's words, instead forcing him to look deep into his eyes.

"I mean it Harry. You can't stay."

Harry gulped. He wasn't sure if it was because Draco had said it with such force or if it was the first time he had heard him call him by his first name, but Harry found himself agreeing.

They opened the main doors together with their wands, blowing them opening. Draco figured the second they came even a few meters of the manor his father would be aware of it, so they might as well come in through the front door, deliberate and **hard**.

It was…anticlimactically. They were greeted by an empty entrance hall. A few lights were lit but otherwise, it appeared to be quiet and uninhabited.

"Well,_shit_!" Harry had to exclaim. He was expecting Lucius to be there, waiting for them with practiced ease, perhaps twirling his wand lazily with the trademark Malfoy smirk on his face.

"Yes, well…we must be early. I told you we should have eaten supper first," Draco muttered.

"Any idea where he might be then?"

"I'm guessing the study," he responded, already making his way up the stairs. "And wipe your feet. I'm inheriting this place after today, after all."

"I don't believe you'll be doing much of anything after today, my son," a sleek voice said from the top of the stairs.

"Father," Draco greeted, his face the very image of blank.

"And I see you've brought a friend. Truly Draco, I think this is only the second person you've brought home," Lucius said carefully, indeed twirling his wand in his two hands.

"Considering Blaise has gone into hiding, I'm afraid I had to make do with this one."

"Could we just get on with it?!" Harry burst out, raising his wand. Enough with the inane banter already.

The two Malfoys turned to him, their blond hair shaking simultaneously. "He really doesn't have a sense of decorum, does he?" the elder Malfoy asked, casting his cane aside.

"I'm afraid he has you there, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry quickly looked over to him. Despite the easy way he spoke, he could tell Draco was tensing, trying desperately to bottle his emotions up so that he could think clearly.

"No second, _**Lucius**_? A pity," Draco continued.

For the first time since their exchange, Lucius' perfect masked cracked slightly. "I needn't bother. Not for a worthless blood_**traitor**_," he spat.

"Funny how **that** should deserve your ire, yet the death of your wife proved to be nothing but an inconvenience for you," Draco growled back, finding his self-control slipping. His knuckles were white from the grip on his wand.

"She did not please our Lord so what choice did I have but to dispose of her? She was a mere sacrifice, Draco, if only you could see that." That was perhaps the closest Lucius would get to pleading for Draco to return to their side. Their infamous pride would not allow for more.

Draco snarled, raising his wand. Before he stepped forward, he gave Potter a quick glance. Harry nodded. He lowered his wand, indicating that as Draco's second, he would not attack unless Draco was down.

Lucius barked a laugh. "So you're actually going to stick with tradition for this, having him be your second? Oh Draco, what have they done to you over there?"

He couldn't believe his son would go down this righteous, moral, decent path of battle. But no matter, he would dead within a matter of moments. And then Potter would be his to present to the Dark Lord. Rather than reply, Draco let all pretenses that he was in control go. He was practically pulsating with crackling light.

His father narrowed his eyes. He shouted out a strange spell, one that Harry had never heard of before. Nothing seemed to have happened after Lucius cast the spell, but Harry had a sinking feeling about it. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't just waste time and risk him life for a defunct spell.

Rushing towards his father with frightening speed, Draco yelled out a blinding curse. Harry managed to avert his eyes in time but it was obvious Lucius would be too slow to shield himself. When the room dimmed, Harry wondered if it would really be over so simply.

Apparently not, since suddenly Draco flew across the room and smashed into the wall. Harry's foot moved toward him before he stopped.

"_Stick to the plan_," he chanted to himself, gritting his teeth. He hoped Draco knew what he was doing.

Draco hoped he did too. He coughed up a mouthful of blood. He drew in a shaky breath. Good. It appeared that his lungs were currently un-pierced. Well, he had a feeling his father would use _**that**_ spell. Thankfully, luck was on his side.

For one, his father was the cockiest son of a bitch the world has ever known, which was a big bonus for Draco.

His father had incanted a very old, pureblooded spell. It was quite possibly one of the most powerful spells out there but it was also quite obscure. It was traditionally passed down in only the most aristocratic, pureblooded families, usually when the son became a father.

The spell was simple yet complex at the same time. It essentially made the spell-caster immune to his enemy's attacks but only if the enemy was a direct descendent. Draco could throw an unarmed Lucius the Killing Spell but the spell would just bounce off, harmlessly.

It was the _Borgeis_ Spell.

Lucius was confident that Draco had no clue what had just happened, just as Draco was confident that Lucius would underestimate him. Little did he know, when he was younger, Draco had snuck into his father's study and accidentally stumbled upon a hidden, old tome that was passed down for generations. Within its crackled, brittle pages, Draco discovered a great family secret.

Since his father had no idea of his son's knowledge, he foolishly incanted the spell out loud for all to hear instead of before he revealed himself. Amidst the rubble, Draco managed to right himself. Soon, soon…his revenge would come. Strange, he thought he would be more angry, more enraged. But all he felt was the impending pleasure he would feel once he killed his father.

The one flaw with the spell was that it wouldn't recognize the energy patterns of any other wands, so if the spell-caster's enemy happen to have backup, he would have to deal with them the normal way.

Lucius smirked when he saw his useless son begin to run. His smirk quickly transformed into a frown. Why was his running to the side, towards Potter?

As Draco sped by, Harry managed to grasp the words that fell from his lips:

"_Open a wound for me_."

Harry responded with a feral grin. He lifted his wand yet again and quickly shouted, " _Postulo mille_!"

The spell of a thousand needles. Harry took grim satisfaction at the look of surprise on Lucius Malfoy's face. One thousand needles shot out from Harry's wand tip, spreading out into a wall before making their way to the intended target. Lucis barely managed a crude shield before a cascade of impossibly slim needles hit him. Each needle sliced his skin superficially, leaving behind a thin, red line in its wake. Not a very debilitating wound in itself, but multiply that wound by a thousand and it was enough to bring him to his knees.

Lucius cursed – the pain was worse than he anticipated. He hissed. He would need a few moments to recover, which could mean his ruthless son had the advantage.

Blast. His ruthless son indeed. His mistake was assuming his traitorous son took on the traits of those weak fools of the Light. He was really fooled there, thinking Draco was going to go through with fighting him one-on-one, with only Harry Potter as a second. He chuckled despite his wounds, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. What a Slytherin thing to do, to fight dirty like that.

The heavy thud of Draco's approaching boots snapped his attention. Lucius managed to look up through narrowed eyes. Whatever he opened his mouth to say was quickly forgotten when Draco's wand was thrust in front of his face. Lucius' eyes crossed slightly at the close proximity of the tip.

A tense silence.

"Hesitation, my _**son**_?" he spat out. "I thought I taught you better."

"Oh no, I'm committed," Draco said easily, too easily. His voice was rich, like flowing, dark chocolate. "I'm just having difficulty deciding what kind of end you're going meet. So many choices, but only one body…"

This type of talking scared Harry to the bone. No matter what his father did to him, Harry believed that Draco wouldn't be this…cold, this calculating when it came to fighting him. Harry imagined they would fight in a blaze of glory and in the midst of battle, Draco would find a small opening and take it in that split second.

He didn't want to imagine Draco hovering over his obviously defeated father, toying with the notion of how much he wanted him to suffer.

"You don't have to do this, Draco" Harry said lowly. "We can always take him back, use him as a bargaining chip."

Harry's lips formed a thin line when Draco barked out a laugh.

"And what? Treat him with courtesy, as befitting a prisoner of war?!" he shouted, his whole body tense. "You fucking Lights with your damn decency – you'd give him a bed, you'd give him meals, you'd give him anything, wouldn't you! How is that any different than just letting him off **right now**?"

Draco refocused his gaze on his fallen father. His lips curled in a sneer. "No," he said quietly, almost to himself. "He's _**mine**_."

"Draco…," Lucius groaned. Maybe he could appeal to his son's softness. He must have some, shouldn't he? Or else why would he change sides in the first place? The boy practically _worshipped_ him before he killed his mother.

Almost reverently, Draco moved his wand and gently wiped upward the thin trail of blood on Lucius' face. His eyes widened madly. And then he whispered:

"_**Gelidus glacies."**_

Lucius' eyes clouded as he saw the blood on the tip of Draco's wand congeal, and then freeze. Oh gods, he really was his son – cruel and very, very imaginative. With his blood on the wand, the spell would focus on anything of the same matter and freeze it. All the blood running through Lucius Malfoy's veins would freeze, giving him a slow and agonizing death.

Harry didn't hear what spell Draco had cast but by the screaming of the usually collected elder Malfoy he knew it was something especially malicious. He turned his head to the side, his eyes shut tightly, his teeth clenched. Amidst Lucius' cries, he distinctly heard the sound of crackling.

When the spell finally reached its end, Lucius' body was rigid and sickeningly twisted. Draco looked down his nose at his finally dead father for a moment, his face cold and impassioned. Finally, he spat on him and kicked him hard with a crunch, turning him over faced-down.

"I'll see you in hell, _old man_."

Harry walked up to his partner and placed a hand on his shoulder. Despite everything, Draco must be suffering now.

Shouldn't he?

Draco, with a swiftness Harry didn't expect, turned and swung an arm over his shoulders. "I can't believe it was that _**easy**_!" he said with disturbing exuberance. "We should be getting medals after this. Although to be fair, I should get the shinier one since I did all the work, don't you think?"

When Harry didn't respond, Draco merely shook his head good-naturedly and practically dragged him toward the inside of the house. "Fuck me, I could use a hot shower right about now. What say we clean this mess up, get back to HQ and let's go **dancing**."

As they made their way further into the manor, Harry noticed Draco's usual pale, gray eyes were significantly darker than he remembered.

* * *

Draco couldn't believe she could leave him when he so obviously needed her there with him. 

Draco couldn't believe she could leave him when he so obviously needed her there with him. So he did the only natural thing.

He followed her.

Oh, he knew where she was going. It was the same place she went every week since a raid squadron had found them. And to top it off, she would always go with _him_.

Fucking Neville Longbottom.

Like he was worth even an iota of her time.

As he passed by the long hallways in St. Mungos, he could hear his footsteps bounce off the walls. What a pitiful place. Normally a place to heal and recover, during these times it was more like a comfortable place to die.

He took the lift to the fourth floor, where they treated spell damages and unliftable spells. Without much thought, his feet guided him to the room he knew the two would be and stopped in front of the wooden door. He opened it carefully to just a crack so as to not expose himself.

"…said they're the same as always," Hermione's hushed voice floated out the small opening of the door.

"Don't lose faith, Hermione," Neville said. "It'll turn out all right in the end."

Draco impassively listened to her strangled cry. "It's been too long, it's hopeless!" she said. "If only they had the funds to really look after my parents! Instead they're just _rotting _here."

A silence between them.

"Oh…oh, I'm sorry Neville. What am I saying, I didn't mean to – "

"No, it's okay. They're finally free," Neville said quietly, without malice. "Their condition was different than this – there's still hope for your parents."

"I-I know, it's just that…seeing them like this…they shouldn't be here in the first place!" Hermione cried, saying the same tortured words.

As Neville began to comfort her, Draco sunk into his memories. He remembered when he first was brought over to the Light and they had screamed at each other that dark night. He scoffed at her attempts to console him about his mother. One thing led to another and soon the two of them were red in the face, screaming at each other. And then it slipped out of her mouth, almost reluctantly.

At least he knew where his parents were, she had screamed. Draco had almost gone bug-eyed with rage at the thought that it should be comforting to know that his mother was dead and his father, the murderer, was knee deep in the enemy. But one look at her face and suddenly everything fell into place. Death Eaters had kidnapped her parents as a bargaining chip and the Light, despite their every covert power to try and find them, on the surface had refused to give into demands.

There were situations where death wasn't the most painful outcome, was what she had implied.

"My parents," she had said, her voice hoarse and reedy with despair, "could still be _**alive**_."

It had become a time where death was, perhaps, not so bad a fate.

It was strange. As Draco stood there, watching Hermione's back shake with suppressed sobs, it was like there was another him inside his own skin. He knew he should be feeling sympathy for her. He should be, because she meant everything to him, even if he never really showed it. In his mind, he knew that she needed to be comforted, to be taken care of.

But something wasn't right. He couldn't find it in him to feel pity. Instead, all he could think of was that hand on her shoulder. How that should be his hand. How he wanted to tear Neville's hand clean off him and burn her shoulder with the bluest of flames to remove his dirty mark off her.

He suddenly gasped, as if his heart skipped a few beats. Draco shook his head. What was he thinking? He quickly walked away and began heading back to headquarters. Something wasn't right with him.

* * *

_ Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.  
_

"**Strip."**

Hermione knew better than to argue. She quickly shed herself of her clothes, leaving them in a soft pile on the wooden floor. She had long gotten over the embarrassment of her nakedness. Suddenly, but not so surprisingly, not anymore, he backhanded her across the face.

The force behind the hit was strong and Hermione was thankful the bed caught her fall, her feet dangling off the edge. Her cheek throbbed and burned. She whimpered, placing a cool hand on her face. Hermione looked up at him with large, tearful eyes. What had she done this time?

Draco felt no remorse. It was all her fault so he shouldn't feel any guilt.

"Did you like that, you slut?" he rumbled, his dark gray eyes blazing. "Did you like making me hit you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean…," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"You know exactly what I mean!" he shot back. "Pressing yourself all over Potter – why didn't you just _**fuck **_him in the hallway for everyone to see?!"

Hermione bowed her head down. It was no use telling him the truth. He never listened and would only get angrier. Harry had finally told Ginny about his feelings for Lavender. Even though they had broken up for a few months now, Harry had felt guilty having feelings for the blonde witch. What if Ginny became angry and never wanted to speak to him again? What if she didn't approve? Their fragile structure of friendship could be shattered – if Ginny hated Harry, Ron would have no choice but to distance himself. Then his whole family would have to. Then Hermione would have to choose who to side with. It would all go downhill from there.

But Ginny had been elated for Harry. She was happy that he could finally be completely with someone. When Harry broke the news to Hermione, she was overjoyed to a degree that surprised him. She had become more and more withdrawn, opting to stay in Draco's room most of the time. When she whooped and leaped into Harry's strong arms, she felt like she hadn't smiled in _years_.

She had no idea Draco had seen her.

Maybe she really did deserve to be hit. What was she thinking?

No time to think about that now. Draco was furious at her silence; her show of humility and shame wasn't enough for him. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back harshly, eliciting a squeal of pain. He kneeled in front of her bare body on the bed, eyeing her exposed neck.

"Do I not satisfy you enough, is that it?" he growled. "Had to go to one of your other lovers to finish the job?"

"N-No!"

"You want to leave me!" he screamed, his eyes wide with revelation. "You can't stand me and **you want to leave me**!!"

"NO! I don't!" she cried, her eyes squeezed tight from the pain in her scalp.

"I won't let you!" he declared, his eyes hot with desire and…and something else. Something wild. "I won't have you spreading your filthy legs to anyone but me!"

He scraped his face against her smooth neck, his breath hot against her cold skin. Hermione held back a scream when he suddenly bit down, hard. Draco drew a small amount of blood, which he quickly lapped up with his tongue. Her breath began to quicken as he sucked on her skin, making sure to leave mark.

He embraced her then, nearly crushing her against him, her breasts flattening against his solid body. One arm around her neck and the other around her waist. His grip on her hips tightened, his fingernails digging into her.

"Don't leave me," he moaned, his voice muffled as his face was pressed into her shoulders. He held onto her tightly, rocking.

Shakily, Hermione brought her hands up and tentatively wrapped her arms around him. When he didn't object, she began rubbing his back. She could feel his hard muscles through the thin, cotton, regulation button-up shirt he wore.

"Don't leave me," he repeated, his voice soft but suddenly grew louder, more unhinged. "You _**won't **_leave me!"

He slammed her down onto the mattress, his hands clutching her thin shoulders tightly.

"I'll make sure you'll never leave! They can't take you from me!"

Before Hermione knew it, Draco had entered her. She cried out in pain. She wasn't ready. He could barely stuff his large cock into her – she was too tight, too dry. But he didn't care. All he cared about was marking her as his. Claiming her. Showing her who she belonged to, even if it did hurt her.

With each thrust the pain ebbed slightly. The tearing of her vaginal walls produced some blood and despite the ache, her body began producing lubrication. As it became easier to move in and out, Draco began slamming into her with earnest.

Soon Hermione's cries of pain turned throaty although she winced whenever he drove into her too deeply. She swore she could feel his member all the way up to her diaphragm. The bed rattled and shook, adding to the chorus of their panting and moaning. Once he settled for a fast-paced rhythm, she managed to wrap her long legs around his torso, increasing her stimulation. Draco grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezing and fondling them roughly.

Draco quickly grabbed her legs from under her knees and spread them wider. He then pushed them down to the mattress under her, so that her knees were on both sides of her head. They both groaned not only at the erotic display of her opening but also because now he could enter her more deeply. He plunged into her, all the way to the base. She was so slick with juices now it was almost unbearable.

As he was pounding into her, Hermione managed to vaguely hear him muttering over her heavy breathing. It was so hard to concentrate but she tried to listen.

"Whore whore whore whore whore…!" he was chanting, his face screwed up and his teeth clenched. "It's all your fault…this is all your fault!"

She could only moan in response. She tightened her hands into fists. He was almost there. His rhythm was off and he was pumping into her even harder than ever. The grip he had on her legs grew tighter. His mutterings and cursing grew louder until he was full on screaming at her, his eyes wide with passion and fury.

"You filthy whore! I'll fuck you dead!" he roared over her gasps. "I'll fuck you until you _**bleed**_! You fucking bitch…!"

Anything else he had to say became garbled as he came, hard, in her. He didn't care if she didn't get hers. He pushed his member into her a few more times, squirting ever last drop of his cum into her. When he pulled out, her entire crotch was soaked with her juices mixed with his seed.

After he pulled out, he collapsed heavily on top of her. Hermione was close to tears but she managed to hold them at bay. Why did it have to be like this? Why was it was becoming harder to coax out the Draco that she had known? Who was this man?

As she listened to his breathing, she tried to remind herself why she was doing this. She didn't know if she loved him, not when he frightened her like this, but she knew she couldn't be with any other person. She knew she wouldn't give up on him.

At first she thought he had fallen asleep, but when his hands crept up her arms she knew that wasn't the case. He kissed her languidly, partially lazy after his orgasm, partially confident in the fact that she wouldn't run away. He caressed her tongue with his own, exploring her mouth in its entirety. Hermione sighed contently.

When he broke the kiss to look her in the eyes, she froze. His eyes were still dark but for now they were hooded with an almost snake-like sensuality and arrogance.

"Tell me you'd never leave me," he cooed, his voice vibrating against her chest. He licked the side of her face and began working on her ear. A very sensitive spot for her. She shivered.

"I-I'd never leave you. Never," she complied, her voice breathy.

"Of course you wouldn't," he agreed, a smirk forming on his face. He blew wetly into her ear before gently nibbling on it. "Why leave when you have everything you could ever want right here."

Oh no. Out of all the sides of his personality, she hated this one the most. She thought she would have hated his violent, angry side the most but no. With that, at least she knew where she stood; she knew what to do. But with this strange, captivating persona, she didn't know what to do or what to feel. All logic and common sense flew out the window the second he casts _that _gaze on her. It was like pulling the carpet from right underneath her. It was like she was his doll.

"Like you would ever leave this," he whispered self-confidently as he began kissing his way down her neck, down between the slopes of her breasts.

Hermione drew a sharp breath. She trembled with anticipation, something Draco knew full well and in turn took his time, licking and kissing and nibbling. When he reached the hot apex between her thighs, he firmly parted her thighs so that her exquisite mound was exposed. He looked up briefly at her almost frightened expression and smirked before returning his gaze to her womanhood.

She always gasped at the first lick. He flattened his tongue and did a wide, upward sweep from her opening all the way to her clitoris. It was warm and wet and cold all at the same time. Goosebumps already formed all up her arms.

He was so _**damned **_good at this.

He first flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue before laving it endlessly with the flat of his tongue. As she moaned with pleasure, he began swirling around her swollen button. First clockwise then counter-clockwise, never stopping, never ending his assault. Around and around and around, his tongue worked his magic on the sensitive bundle of nerves. With each flick of his talented tongue, Hermione couldn't help but let out a throaty gasp. Her fists clenched and bunched the sheets. It felt like fire was running through her veins. She could feel the delicious, familiar heat and pressure building up.

"Oh!!" she squealed, eyes widening. Draco had begun sucking gently on her clit, making sure to flick it sharply between sucks. Oh no, she couldn't hold onto it any longer. The pressure, his rhythm, it was all too much. It was too little. It was too –

When she came, stars exploded and her eyes rolled to the back of her head even when she clenched her eyes shut. She managed to let out a strangled cry when she felt her vaginal wall tightened and pulsed, with excess juices slowly leaking out of her.

After what seemed to be forever, she managed to finally breath again and she collapsed back onto the slightly damp sheets. She rolled her head to the side, panting heavily, not able to think about anything but the pleasure. Hermione could dimly hear Draco chuckling but she was too sated to really care.

Draco got up to use the tiny bathroom attached to his room, unbuttoning his shirt off in the process. Hermione watched his magnificent body move with grace to the bathroom, involuntarily sighing with…content? Exhaustion? Once she came down from her high a little, she once again idly wondered how he became so good at it. How many women did he have to go through to perfect his technique?

The thought of him with other women pinched her heart with jealousy, which she quickly suppressed. It was useless to think about it – what she should focus on was the Draco of now and how to keep him that way.

When he came out of the bathroom, Draco had already removed the rest of his clothing, leaving him beautifully naked. With lust still apparent in his eyes, he stalked onto the bed and leapt upon her.

* * *

They fucked two more times that night. The second time, right before he was going to come, he quickly pulled out. After frantically stroking his cock a few times, he came with a gritty moan, ejaculating over her supple body, making sure to splash some of his milky seed all over her breasts and flat stomach. Before he was completely through, he shoved his still erect member into her mouth, forcing her to swallow the rest of his semen. With a few whispered words, he then coaxed her to lick as much off her as possible while he watched. It was embarrassing but when he stared at her with such hypnotic and searing eyes, she couldn't refuse. 

By the time he fell asleep, it was already late into the night. Hermione, after making sure he deep in slumber, she sat up carefully to look down at him. She studied him. He looked so peaceful. Like he should be, all the time. Lightly, she brushed some of his light blond hair off his forehead.

She was beginning to figure out his pattern. As long as she stayed with him and submitted to his every whim, he seemed to be fine. She really didn't know what to make of that. Was he just a possessive man in nature? No, she didn't think so – she knew of most of his trysts back at Hogwarts, and he really couldn't give a flying fuck if the other woman seemed to stray. Not that they did.

Hermione sighed. Everything was becoming more and more complicated. What should she do? She knew she couldn't abandon him, he needed her now more than ever. At the same time, she was frightened. All she could do for now was to watch herself more carefully and hopefully, Draco wouldn't succumb to that dark persona.

"_Please_," she prayed silently to the gods in heaven. "_Shine down on him, so that he can be the man he was always supposed to be._"

When Hermione woke up the next morning, almost afternoon, Draco was already gone. She vaguely remembered hearing him get up in the middle of the night. He seemed to be going through bouts of insomnia because she would constantly see evidence of his nightly activities, mostly through strewn books and stacks of paperwork.

Groggily, she saw one book that stood out this morning. It was a large familiar tome; it was the book she was trying to share with him the night they first slept together in this room. She wondered what compelled him to read about the Marquis de Sade after all this time. Gently flipping through it, she stopped at a particular page.

She noticed it because it seemed the top corner was dog-eared, as if the reader wanted to remember the page. But then it was re-creased and pressed flat against the book, like the bookmark wasn't necessary anymore. It was peculiar because Hermione never creased or dented or wrote on books – it was akin to sacrilege to her. The only other person to do it then, naturally, was Draco.

She quickly skimmed the page, wondering what could compel him to take notice. In the end, she couldn't reach an irrefutable conclusion of what interested him, but in the back of her mind, a line popped up off the page for her.

Woman's destiny is to be wanton, like the bitch, the she-wolf; she must belong to all who claim her.

The quote itself chilled her. She wondered if it spoke out to Draco was well. She shook it off. There wasn't enough evidence to prove this was what intrigued him, so she dropped it.

She had to get ready for her meeting.

* * *

"So this is it," Harry said quietly, looking across from him. 

"Are you prepared?" Draco asked just as quietly, not even bothering to leaf through the documents in front of him.

"I've been ready my whole life."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Stop that right now," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. He threw a crumpled note at Harry's head.

Harry chuckled before his expression turned more somber. He looked down, resting his arms on the table. After a sigh, he began playing with the gleaming gold ring on his left ring finger.

"Did you already wrap things up with Brown?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, Lav's off to prepare the kids and elderly in the shelters," he said before letting out a little laugh. "She told me exchanging rings wasn't enough for her. I had to come back alive in order to use all of my inheritance for a real ceremony."

"Quickly shoving a ring on a woman's finger hardly constitutes as a proper wedding."

"In that case, let's tell Voldemort to take a little holiday while we all spend all our resources on ice swans and roses," Harry said sourly.

"But think of all the wonderful presents you'd get," Draco said with a smirk.

"Are you all right Draco? Anything bothering you?" Harry asked suddenly. Draco was acting strangely for the past few months. He was more withdrawn and in the battlefield, more bloodthirsty. Just when Harry swore Draco was acting more than your typical kind of odd, he would come back with a quip or two that would satisfy Harry for the time being. Before he left for the final battle, he had to ask.

Also, Hermione had practically disappeared. She only appeared at crucial meetings and never really talked to anyone anymore. When he asked Draco, the man merely shrugged, apparently just as confused as the rest of them.

"I'm delightful," he retorted. "Just the thought that we all may come back dead or as slaves tomorrow really lets the sun shine through for me. **Ass**."

"I'm not even going to start with you," Harry said exasperatedly, giving up. The man was fine. "The only one who can put you in your place is Hermione, anyway."

Draco's expression remained neutral. "That's because she's smarter than three of you, Potter."

"Is she safe, in any case?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I locked her up tight – even that little she-devil couldn't break out of it," Draco said casually.

"I can't believe I agreed to this."

"She was screaming and kicking down doors to get to you," Draco carefully explained. "If she had her way, you know she'd be right next to you when you greet the Dark Lord."

Harry shuddered. That definitely sounded like something she would do. And that was something he could not allow. He almost lost her once. Never again.

"Hermione must be spitting fire right now," Harry groaned, not looking forward to her infamous tirades.

"She'll get over it."

"Right," Harry said. "Let's go over these one more time, yeah?"

As the two went over the next day's battle plans, Draco couldn't help but smile slightly before re-focusing on the task at hand.

After months and months of skirmishes, the Light had finally decimated and captured the majority of Voldemort's cells littered throughout Europe. Now all that was left was their main stronghold, where he resided. The plan was to take most what was left of the Light and go for a full frontal attack. Their last stand, so to speak.

In the midst of the epic battle, they would sneak Harry in with only a few of his most trusted compatriots. Once they made sure Harry was safe, he would enter the Dark Lord's chambers.

Alone.

It was the way it had to be. It was what the Prophecies decided.

Only one would survive.

Once they finished up all the last minute details, the two men slumped in their chairs. There were no more words to say to each other, in the way brothers had nothing more to say between them.

Before Harry left the room, he looked over his shoulder. "I'd feel a lot better knowing Hermione was okay with all of this. I wouldn't want to leave on a bad note."

Draco studied the dark-haired man. It looked as though numerous thoughts were running though his mind. Finally:

"I think I could arrange something."

* * *

"…going to…k-kill you…anh! When…hah…when I get out…but…!" 

"But I know why you're doing this," Draco supplied, his tone lazy but sounded harsh with tight restraint.

"B-but…I know why you're…you're… Please, I can't - !" Hermione panted, unable to really form words.

"Be a good girl and finish the letter, then maybe I'll do something for you," Draco said loftily.

Hermione merely groaned in response. A few sweat droplets from her brow dripped onto the page, marring it.

"Oh dear, I think we may have to rewrite the whole thing! What do you think?" asked Draco.

"Noo…!"

The helpless, wanton way she cried this made Draco tense. Merlin's teeth, he nearly came just because of that. He let out a breath in a hiss. He had to control himself, if only to show her who was in charge.

"I'll let it go this time, but keep on writing."

"I…I can't! Ah!"

"Then don't you dare move," he whispered, firmly holding her hips down.

At the thought of this she shook her head and re-gripped the quill in her hand. Draco looked over her shoulder as she messily scrawled a note to Harry, writing down Draco's words verbatim.

Hermione had no idea how it ended up like this. She was quietly reading in the room when Draco had burst in, eyes determined.

"We're going to set Potter's heart at ease, how'd you like that?" he had asked, almost teasingly.

Of course, Hermione had no idea what he was talking about. But he placed a parchment paper and a quill on the small desk and pulled out the chair. Once she was about to tentatively sit down, she felt him behind her and found herself sitting on his lap. She quickly shot up to turn around, but his arms encircled her with amazing speed. Was she supposed to write the letter sitting on him? What was she even supposed to say? Don't worry about that, he had said. Just write down what I say.

Later Hermione would suspect he forced her write the letter the way he did because he didn't want her to question the words that she was writing. Why was she saying these things to Harry? But before she started to write, Draco had already unbuttoned her modest burgundy shirt and threw it on the bed.

"W-wait, what are you – " she began, but was quickly silenced when he began massaging her breasts from behind. Even through her white lacy bra she could feel the electricity of his hands. Soon they traveled down her body, flipping up her skirt. He nimbly pushed the crotch of her panties to one side and violently forced his middle finger all the way into her.

He ignored her moans of protests, instead focusing on pumping his long digit diligently in and out of her. He removed his finger and liberally spread her juices on her crotch before playing with her clit. Hermione tossed her head back and moaned. Draco's other arm snaked around her to press her firmly against him and held her down while he continued working his magic.

He would alternate between circling her clit vigorously and unexpectedly plunging his fingers into her. Once he worked his way into shoving three of his elegant fingers into her opening Hermione began to cry for release, begging for it. It was as if he knew exactly when it would all be too much and would then switch to something different, forever keeping her from orgasm.

At one point, he merely cupped her crotch, letting the heat of his hand cover her weeping sex. Hermione had begged him, begged him, to give her satisfaction. To fuck her, screw her, free her, kill her – anything to make the buildup stop. She could feel his erection pressing against the small of her back. Draco had leaned forward and whispered in her ear and within seconds, her shaking hands reached for the quill and parchment.

Once she finished writing the first line – _god what was she even writing about? _– he rewarded her by lifting her frail body and plunging her upon his engorged member. Hermione had screamed, nearly breaking the quill in her hand in half. Every few words or so, he would lift her up slightly so that he could slam his long cock into her, causing her to whimper with pleasure.

Hermione shook her head – she was almost done now. She had to focus on writing, only then would he…would he…

"G-good luck, Harry…," she rasped, hoping she was nearly done. Her handwriting was splotchy and nearly unreadable. She suddenly squealed. Draco had just slammed into her one more time. He gripped her wide hips with crushing pressure, firmly implanting her on his lap. He moved his hips slightly back and forth, stretching her inner walls.

"Love, Hermione," Draco grunted, trying to focus. He had to maintain control, otherwise he would start pumping into her until he came all over the chair. He didn't want Hermione to write 'love' to Harry, but he knew it wouldn't be believable if she didn't.

Gods, why couldn't she hurry the **fuck **up?

"Love…H-Her…mione…!"

"Yess…!" Draco hissed, reaching out and sloppily swept the parchment off the table. He picked her up and threw her to the table. Hermione managed to land on the table with her upper body, the surface cold against her stomach. She was about to turn her head to peer over at Draco when he started to pump his member into her mercilessly.

"Aannh!" she cried out, tears of pleasure leaking out from the corner of her eyes. Finally, he would give her what she desired. He grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and pressed, making sure she stayed submissive and trapped in her position. The other hand tightly held onto her hip, helping him ram deeper into her.

He was at exactly the right angle, hitting her every time on her G-spot. Hermione didn't know how much more she could take. It felt so good, having him roughly pound away into her. Her eyes widened.

He was spanking her. His large hand connected again against her soft buttocks, firmly smacking her. The sound was deafening in their tiny room. Soon the room was filled with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, their loud moans and cries and her cheeks getting punished at random intervals.

Hermione could feel the stinging pain from her buttocks but somehow it only enhanced her experience. Before she knew it, he was smacking her harder and more frequently. Draco loved the exquisite pain he was bringing to her. He found he liked hitting her – the sweet sound of her skin, the way it turned red after only one hit, the way her vagina clenched when his hand connected – it turned him on, more than he could have imagined.

After one more hard spank, Hermione climaxed hard, a whole universe exploding in her nether regions. Not long after, Draco slammed into her one final time, his seed bursting into her channel. With a groan, he threw his head back and collapsed on top of her, not caring if he was crushing her or not.

Once he settled down, his eyes drifted toward the forgotten parchment of the floor. He knew Harry was getting suspicious of Hermione's behavior, how she was more withdrawn and barely left the room anymore. It was because Draco felt anxious whenever she wasn't around or he didn't know what she was doing.

He did a good job, in his opinion, of keeping Hermione out of the loop. She had no idea tomorrow was going to be their last stand and he wanted to keep it that way. Though she had become less willful and more obedient, he couldn't guarantee that she would revert back to her old self and really would go chasing after Harry.

He couldn't allow that.

So he made up some excuse that Hermione caught wind of the operation and he had to lock her up for her own good. Now with the letter finished, Harry shouldn't have any more distractions and neither would he. Draco would lock Hermione up in a way where she couldn't say no. Only then would his mind be at ease.

He removed himself from her, noting with satisfaction the glow she almost seemed to emit after whenever they had sex. He sensually moved his hand up and down her smooth back, relishing the feeling.

"Do you dare leave this room tomorrow," he said. His words came out soft but with an underlying tone of granite. He was not to be disobeyed.

She nodded. She knew the steel, the force behind his command.

"You stay in here, do you understand me?" he ordered. "I can't let you out. Not yet. Not now."

* * *

Diary entry No. 1, Vol. I 

I now understand what Draco was trying to accomplish two nights ago. After he delivered my so-called letter of farewell, Harry had him deliver me this laptop. How he had gotten his hands on something this Muggle is unknown to me, but he knows me better than I thought. Since I can't do anything but sit in this room, it's nice to somehow voice my thoughts.

Draco was right to stop me. I would have gone after Harry. Prophecies be damned, I'm not about to just sit around and wait for him to return – I would have marched to the frontlines and helped him out as much as I could.

But since this room is locked and warded, that option had been closed off to me.

Of course, the bigger question is, how did it go? What was the outcome of the War?

Thank god, we won. Of course we won; the good is **supposed **to triumph over evil in the end, right? But when you're surrounded by so much death and despair, it's easy to believe that such thinking should be left in fairy tales. Thank the gods, Harry is alive and it's all over.

You would think the ending of the War would be spectacular. With fireworks blaring in the sky and every man and woman fighting it out to the death. Epic.

Well, I'm sure that it was. Just…not for me. The ending of the War was quite uneventful for me. Rather than being out there, giving my life up for our efforts, I was locked in here, staring out the window that looks out over nothing. It was only thanks to a note slipped under the door that I knew the outcome of it at all.

I hear there's a rather large celebration happening downstairs but as of yet Draco has not been up here to free me.

I don't understand what's going on with us, what's going on with me. I feel like I'm –

Oh, Draco's here now.

* * *

WOW, omg I'm done. 20 pages of WEIRDNESS. I hope the pacing isn't throwing people off (. The glossing over MAJOR events was kind of intentional, because this story really just focuses on Draco and Hermione.

I apologize for all mistakes – this was done, as always, in a hurry and in practically one sitting. My betas will hopefully clean this up later and I'll repost it.

Haha, I'm shoving it down your throats, the uneventfulness of things. Like how Hermione did absolutely NOTHING for the final battle of the war? I think it's rather sad and pathetic, given how she's this feisty, intensely independent and talented witch and in the end, her best friends go off to save the world while she's stuck alone in a dingy room.

The pretentious quote you see in italics were again, from that bastard, the Marquis de Sade. Why do the craziest, most foul people have some of the greatest quotes? Dammit.

Thank you so much for sticking with me, as always!! Your support means so much to me, mostly because I'm an insecure and vain soul and any positive comments leave me happy and gooey and inspired to write more! I don't understand why people apologize for long reviews – don't you know that's like, the best thing in the world?

I hope you're enjoying this flashback section of the story – we have one more chapter of it to go! Again, go to my livejournal blog to read more about the inner workings of this chapter and chapters to come!!

Love you all!!

PS - …you guys really keep reading this story? Sometimes, I'm looking over my writing and I'm like, oh god. HORRIBLE! hahahaha


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